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TOURNEYS 
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Ghe  Gempest  ^Prospero  and  /Iriel  ^^rt^:^    ^^^* 


GfirougiiBooWanii 

A  New  and  Original  Plan  for  Reading, 

Applied  to  the  World's  Best  Literature 

for  Children 

BY 

Charles  H.  Sylvester 

Author  of  English  and  American  Litetaiure,  Etc. 


VOLUME  NINE 


BELLOWS-REEVE    COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


Copyright,  1909.  by 

CHARLES   H.   STLVESTEB. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Pere  Marquette Jared  Sparks      1 

The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 23 

The  Alhambra Washington  Irving    35 

Herv^  Riel Robert  Browning    53 

The  Battle  of  Waterloo Lord  Byron    61 

Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau John  Tyndall    66 

Abou  Ben  Adhem Leigh  Hunt    11 

Florence  Nightingale Anna  McCaleb    79 

How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train Charles  Kingsley  100 

A  Bed  of  Nettles Grant  Allen  131 

Washington  Irving 139 

The  Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York   Washington  Irving  148 

The  Battle  of  Traf.algar Robert  Southey  214 

C-ASABiANCA Felicia  Henians  246 

The  Romance  of  the  Swan's  Nest  .    Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  248 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night Robert  Burns  253 

Charles  and  Mary  L-amb 263 

Dream  Children:  A  Revery Charles  Lamb  271 

Reading  Shakespeare 283 

The  Tempest,  A  T.vle  from  Shakespeare 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  286 

The  Tempest William,  Shakespeare  302 

Studies  for  The  TEifPEST 416 

The  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

Tliomas  Babington  Macaulay  439 

A  Dissertation  upon  Roast  Pig Charles  Lamb  466 

The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers Charles  Lamb  477 


For  classification  of  selections,  see  the  index  at  the  end  of  Volume  X, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGB 
The  Tempest  (Color  Plate)    ....     Katkerine  Maxey  Frontispiece 

At  the  Portage R.  F.  Babcock      7 

On  the  Mississippi JR.  F.  Babcock      9 

The  Gift  of  the  CALxraiET R.  F.  Babcock    12 

The  Mexicans  Rushed  to  the  Walls      ...        F.  J.  Cowley    29 

The  Defenders  Were  Active F.  J.  Cowley    31 

Bowie  Had  Strength  to  Use  His  Weapons    .     .F.J.  Cowley    33 

The  Fall  of  the  Alamo  (Halftone) W.  E.  Scott    34 

The  Gate  of  Justice Beatrice  Braidwood    38 

In  the  Court  of  Lions Beatrice  Braidwood    41 

The  H\ll  of  the  Abencerrages Beatrice  Braidwood    43 

They  Follow  in  a  Flock G.  R.  Wlieeler    58 

But  Hark! Garrett  Van  Vranken     62 

A  Sharp  Edge  Led  to  the  Top D.  Walker    15 

The  Angel  Came  Again G.  R.  Wheeler    77 

Florence  Nightingale  (Halftone) 80 

The  Lady  with  the  Lamp        Marguerite  Calkins    91 

"Do  Not  Shoot  TILL  I  Do." George  Werveke  103 

How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train  (Halftone)   .  George  Werveke  110 

A  Figure  Issued  from  a  Cave George  Werveke  118 

Washington  Irving  (Halftone) 140 

Here  They  Refreshed  Themselves  .  .  .  Gordon  Stevenson  164 
He  Was  Interrupted  by  Wandle  Schoonhoven       

Gordon  Stevenson  179 
Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York  (Halftone) 

Gordon  Stevenson  184 

William  the  Testy Gordon  Stevenson  193 

His  Pipe  Was  a  Part  of  His  Physiognomy     .      Gordon  Stevenson  195 

Peter  Stuyvesant. Gordon  Stevenson  198 

Lady  Hamilton  Came  up  to  Him .7.  Hildebrand  217 

"See,"  Cried  Nelson ,J.  Hildebrand  232 

The  ViCTOnr J.  Hildebrand  236 

"They  Have  Done  for  Me  at  Last."  ...  J.  Hiklebrand  237 
Romance  of  the  Swan's  Nest  (Halftone).     .     .    Walter  O.  Reese  248 

Th'  Expectant  Wee-Things M.  L.  Spoor  255 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night  (Halftone)    .     .     .    M.  L.  <S;;oor  258 

Round  the  Ingle M.  L.  Spoor  259 

CiLVRLES  Lamb  (Halftone) 270 

He  Would  Mount  a  Mettlesome  Horse  .  .  Walter  0.  Reese  276 
I  Awoke Walter  O.  Reese  278 


VIII  Illustrations 

All  Lost!  All  Lost! KatJierine  Maxey  308 

"All  Hail,  Gre.\t  AL\ster!" Katherim  Maxey  320 

"I'll  Be  His  Sltrety."    ...          ....  Katherine  Maxey  335 

"Aw.\ke!  Awaice!" Katherine  Maxey  35'-4 

Caliban Katherine  Maxey  354' 

"I  A\i  Your  Wife,  If  You  Will  ]Marry  jNLe.  "  Katherine  Maxey  367 

Ariel  Plays  the  Tu*ne Katherine  Maxey  374 

"She  Will  Outstrip  All  Pr.\ise."  .     .     .     .  Katfierine  Maxey  38i 

"Do  You  Lo\TE  Me,  Master  .^" Katherine  Maxey  386 

"Behold  the  Wroxged  Dltce  of  Mil.\x.  "  .  Katherine  Maxey  403 

The  Tempest  (Halftone) Katherine  Maxey  412 

William  Shakespeare  (Halftone) 416 


Title-page  and  halftone  decorations  by  Mrs.  Thomas  Wood  Stevens. 
Initial    letters,  tailpieces  and  other  decorations  by  Mrs.  Thomas 
Wood  Stevens,  Frederick  Grant  and  Miss  Edith  Virden. 


PERE  MARQUETTE 

J  A  RED  SPARKS' 

T  is  generally  believed  that  the  Mis- 
sissippi River  was  first  discovered  by 
Ferdinand  de  Soto,  as  early  as  1541. 
The  accounts  of  his  expedition  in 
Florida  are  so  highly  exaggerated, 
so  indefinite,  and  in  many  parts  so 
obviously  false,  that  little  more  can 
be  inferred  from  them,  than  that  he  passed  far 
into  the  country,  had  many  combats  with  the 
natives,  and  finally  died  in  the  interior.  The 
probability  is  so  strong,  however,  that  he  and  his 
party  actually  crossed  the  Mississippi,  that  it  has 
usually  been  assumed  as  a  historical  fact. 

The  first  Europeans,  however,  w^ho  are  cer- 
tainly know^n  to  have  discovered  and  explored 
this  river,  were  two  Frenchmen,  Father  Mar- 
quette^ and  M.  Joliet,  in  the  year  1673.  Mar- 
quette was  a  native  of  Picardy,  and  Charlevoix 
calls  him  "one  of  the  mosf;  illustrious  mission- 

1.  Jared  Sparks  was  born  in  1789,  and  was  one  of  the  most  industrious 
of  our  early  historians,  for  he  collected  documents,  edited  them,  and 
wrote  untiringly  on  American  biography.  Some  of  his  work  is  not 
considered  very  reliable,  but  he  contributed  a  great  deal  of  valuable 
information  in  rather  a  pleasing  way.  This  sketch  of  Marquette's  ex- 
pedition is  particularly  interesting,  as  he  followed  so  closely  the  report  of 
the  great  missionary. 

2.  Father  Manfuette,  the  famous  Jesuit  explorer  and  missionary,  was 
born  in  France  in  1037.  lie  was  sent  as  a  missionary  to  Canada,  and  in 
1668  founded  the  mission  of  Sault  Sainte  Marie.  In  1673,  when  he  was 
ordered  by  (Jount  Frontenac  to  jcjin  Joliet  and  find  and  explore  the 
Mississippi,  he  was  in  charge  of  a  new  mission  at  Mackinaw. 


2  Pere  Marquette 

aries  of  New  France,"  adding,  that  he  travelled 
widely,  and  made  many  discoveries  besides  that 
of  the  ^Mississippi.  He  had  resided  some  time 
in  Canada,  and  attained  a  proficiency  in  the 
languages  of  the  principal  native  tribes  who  re- 
sided in  the  regions  bordering  on  the  Upper 
Lakes.  The  first  settlement  of  the  old  town  of 
Michillimackinac,  in  1671,  is  ascribed  to  his  ex- 
ertions and  influence. 

The  Indians  had  given  many  accounts  of  a 
great  river  at  the  west,  which  flowed  south- 
wardly, and  which  they  called  Mississipy,  as 
the  word  is  written  by  Marquette.  It  became 
a  matter  of  curious  speculation,  what  course 
this  river  pursued,  and  at  what  place  it  disem- 
bogued itself  into  the  sea.  There  were  three 
opinions  on  this  subject.  First,  that  it  ran 
towards  the  southwest,  and  entered  the  Gulf  of 
California;  secondly,  that  it  flowed  into  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico;  and  thirdly,  that  it  found  its  way  in 
a  more  easterly  direction,  and  discharged  itself 
into  the  Atlantic  Ocean  somewhere  on  the  coast 
of  Virginia.  The  question  was  not  less  impor- 
tant in  a  commercial  and  political  view,  than 
interesting  as  a  geographical  problem. 

To  establish  the  point,  and  to  make  such  other 
discoveries  as  opportunities  would  admit,  M.  de 
Frontenac,  the  governor  of  Canada,  encouraged 
an  expedition  to  be  undertaken.  The  persons 
to  whom  it  was  intrusted,  were  M.  Joliet,  then 
residing  at  Quebec,  and  Father  Marquette,  who 
was  at  Michillimackinac,  or  in  the  vicinity  of 
that  place.     Marquette  wrote  an  account  of  his 


Pere  Marquette  3 

tour,  and  voyage  down  the  Mississippi,  which 
was  sent  to  France,  and  published  eight  years 
afterwards  in  Paris.  From  this  account  the  fol- 
lowing particulars  are  chiefly  taken.  In  some 
parts  the  translation  is  nearly  literal,  and  all  the 
prominent  facts  are  retained. 

On  the  13th  of  May,  1673,  Father  Marquette 
and  M.  Joliet,  with  five  other  Frenchmen,  em- 
barked in  two  canoes,  with  a  small  provision  of 
Indian  corn  and  smoked  meat,  having  previously 
acquired  from  the  Indians  all  the  intelligence 
they  could  afford  respecting  their  proposed 
route.  ^ 

The  first  nation^  through  which  they  passed, 
was  the  Folles  Avoines,  (Wild  Rice,)^  so  called 
from  the  grain  of  that  name,  which  abounds  in 
the  rivers  and  marshy  lands.  This  plant  is  de- 
scribed as  growing  about  two  feet  above  the 
water,  resembling  European  oats,  and  is  gathered 
by  the  savages  during  the  month  of  September. 
The  ears  are  dried,  separated  from  the  chaff", 
and  prepared  for  food  either  by  pounding  into 
meal,  or  simply  boiling  the  grain  in  water. 

The  natives,  having  been  made  acquainted  by 
Father  Marquette  with  his  design  of  visiting  the 

3.  "The  joy  that  we  felt  at  being  selected  for  This  Expedition  ani- 
mated our  Courage,  and  rendered  the  labor  of  paddling  from  morning 
to  night  agreeable  to  us." — Marquette. 

4.  The  wild  rice  pcoi)lc  were  the  Meiioininees,  who  lived  on  the  river 
that  now  bears  that  name  and  which  f<jriiis  part  of  the  boundary  between 
Wisconsin  and  Midiigan.  Father  Marquette  went  out  of  his  way  to  see 
these  friendly  Indians,  whose  name  Menominee  means  simply  \oild  rice. 

5.  This  wild  rice  still  grows  in  the  streams  and  lakes  of  northern 
Wisconsin  and  Michigan,  still  clogs  the  courses  of  the  rivers  and  is  still 
gathered  by  the  scattered  Indians  of  that  vicinity. 


4  PfeRE  Marquette 

most  remote  nations,  and  preaching  to  them  the 
Gospel,  did  their  utmost  to  dissuade  him  from 
it,  representing  the  cruelty  of  some  of  the  tribes, 
and  their  warlike  state,  the  dangerous  navigation 
of  the  river,  the  dreadful  monsters  that  were  found 
in  it,  and,  finally,  the  excessive  heat  of  the  climate. 

He  thanked  them  for  their  good  advice,  but 
declined  following  it;  assuring  them,  that,  to  se- 
cure the  success  of  his  undertaking,  he  would 
gladly  give  his  life;  that  he  felt  no  fear  of  the 
monsters  they  described;  and  that  their  informa- 
tion would  only  oblige  him  to  keep  more  on  his 
guard  against  surprise.  After  having  prayed, 
and  given  them  some  instructions,  he  parted 
from  them,  and  arrived  at  the  Bay  of  Puans,^ 
now  called  Green  Bay,  where  considerable  prog- 
ress had  been  made  by  the  French  priests  in  the 
conversion  of  the  Indians. 

The  name  of  this  bay  has  a  less  unpleasant 
meaning  in  the  Indian,  than  in  the  French  lan- 
guage, signifying  also  salt  hay,  which  induced 
Father  Marquette  to  make  strict  researches  for 
salt  springs  in  this  vicinity,  but  without  success. 
He  concluded,  therefore,  that  the  name  was  given 
to  it  in  consequence  of  the  ooze  and  mud  de- 
posited there,  from  whence,  as  he  thought,  arise 
vapors,  that  produce  frequent  and  violent  thun- 
der storms.  He  speaks  of  this  bay  as  about 
thirty  leagues  long,  and  eight  leagues  wide  at  its 
entrance,  gradually  contracting  towards  its  head, 
where  the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  tides,  much  like 
those  of  the  sea,  may  be  easily  observed. 

6.  The  name  ^uana  in  French  signifies  ill-smelling. 


Pere  Marquette  5 

Leaving  this  bay,  they  ascended  the  river, 
since  known  as  Fox  River,  that  empties  into  it. 
At  its  mouth,  he  says,  the  river  is  broad  and 
deep,  and  flows  gently;  but,  as  you  advance,  its 
course  is  interrupted  by  rapids  and  rocks;  which 
he  passed,  however,  in  safety.  It  abounds  witli 
bustards,''  ducks,  and  teal,  attracted  by  the  wild 
rice,  which  growls  there.  Approaching  the  vil- 
lage of  Maskoutins,^  or  nation  of  fire, he  had  the 
curiosity  to  taste  the  mineral  water  of  a  stream 
in  its  vicinity.  The  village  consisted  of  three 
several  nations,  namely,  Miamis,  Mashoutins^ 
and  Kikaheaux.  The  first  were  the  most  friendly 
and  liberal,  and  the  finest  looking  men.  Their 
hair  was  long  over  their  ears.  They  were  good 
warriors,  successful  in  their  expeditions,  docile, 
and  fond  of  instruction.  They  were  so  eager  to 
listen  to  Father  Allouez,^  when  he  was  among 
them,  that  they  allowed  him  no  repose,  even  in 
the  night.  The  Maskoutins  and  Kikabeaux 
were  coarser,  and  less  civilized;  their  wigwams 
were  constructed  of  rushes,  (birch  bark  being 
scarce  in  this  country,)  and  might  be  rolled  up  in 
bundles  and  carried  where  they  pleased. 

In  visiting  these  people.  Father  Marquette  was 
much  gratified  at  seeing  a  large  cross  erected  in 
the  center  of  the  village,  decorated  with  thank- 

7.  Til  ere  are  no  bustards  in  Nortli  America.  The  wTiter  probably 
saw  wild  geese  with  the  ducLs. 

8.  It  is  not  known  certainly  where  this  villaj^e  wjis  located,  but  it 
may  have  been  near  the  present  rity  of  licrlin  or  Princeton. 

9.  I-'ather  Allouez  arrived  at  the  Saiilt  Suinte  Marie  in  KiGS,  and  was 
engaged  in  iriissionary  work  bclwecii  lakes  SuiH-rior  and  lMichi{j;an.  It 
is  probable  that  lie  had  visite<l  tin-  Indians  the  year  before. 

Vol.  IX.— 2. 


6  Pere  Marquette 

ott'erings  to  the  Great  Spirit,  for  their  success 
durine:  the  last  winter.  The  situation  of  the  vil- 
lage  was  striking-  and  beautiful,  it  being  built  on 
an  eminence,  whence  the  eye  overlooked  on  all 
sides  a  boundless  extent  of  prairie,  interspersed 
with  groves  and  forests.  The  soil  was  good^ 
producing  abundantly  Indian  corn,  grapes,  and 
plums. 

Immediately  on  their  arrival,  Father  Mar- 
quette and  M.  Joliet  assembled  the  chiefs,  and 
explained  to  them  the  objects  of  their  expedition, 
expressing  their  determination  to  proceed  at  all 
risks,  and  making  them  some  presents.  They 
requested  the  assistance  of  two  guides,  to  put 
them  in  their  way;  which  request  the  natives 
readily  granted,  returning  for  their  presents  a 
mat,  which  served  them  as  a  bed  during  the 
voyage.  The  next  day,  being  the  10th  of  June, 
the  two  Miamis,  their  guides,  embarked  with 
them  in  sight  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  village, 
who  looked  with  astonishment  on  the  hardihood 
of  seven  Frenchmen  in  undertaking  such  an  ex- 
pedition. 

They  knew  that  within  three  leagues  of  the 
Maskoutins  was  a  river,  which  discharged  itself 
into  the  Mississippi;  and  further,  that  their  course 
must  be  west  southwest;  but  so  many  marshes 
and  small  lakes  intervened,  that  the  route  was 
intricate;  the  more  so,  as  the  river  was  over- 
grown with  wild  rice,  which  obstructed  the  chan- 
nel to  such  a  degree,  that  it  was  difficult  to  follow 
it.  On  this  account  their  guides  were  necessary, 
who  conducted  them  safely  to  a  portage,  which 


Pere  Marquette 


AT   THE   PORTAGE 


was  about  two  thousand  seven  hundred  paces 
across/''  The  guides  aided  them  in  transporting 
their  canoes  over  the  portage  to  the  river,  which 
ran  towards  the  west,  and  then  they  left  them  and 
returned. 

10,  The  Fox  and  Wisconsin  river  systems  approach  within  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  each  other  at  Portage,  Wisconsin.  The  land  is  low  and 
swampy,  and  in  flood  times  the  current  sometimes  sets  from  one  river  into 
the  other.  The  government  constructed  a  canal  across  this  narrow 
di\ide,  which,  you  see,  Marquette  described  and  measured  quite  ac- 
curately. 


8  Pere  ^NTarquette 

The  travellers  quitted  the  waters,  which  flow 
towards  Quebec,  five  or  six  hundred  leagues 
from  that  })lace,  and  embarked  on  an  unknown 
stream. ^^  This  river  was  called  Mescousin  (Wis- 
consin). It  was  very  broad,  but  its  bottom  was 
sandy,  and  the  navigation  was  rendered  difficult 
by  the  shoals,^-  It  was  full  of  islands,  overgrown 
with  vines;  and  the  fertile  banks  through  which 
it  flowed  were  interspersed  with  woods,  prairies, 
and  groves  of  nut,  oak,  and  other  trees.  Num- 
bers of  bucks  and  buffaloes  were  seen,  but  no 
other  animals.  Within  thirty  leagues  of  their 
place  of  embarkation,  they  found  iron  mines, 
which  appeared  abundant  and  of  a  good  quality. 
After  continuing  their  route  for  forty  leagues, 
they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  in  forty-two 
degrees  and  a  half  of  latitude ;^^  and  on  the  17th 
of  June,  they  entered  with  great  joy  the  waters 
of  the  Mississippi. 

This  river  derives  its  source  from  several  lakes 
in  the  north.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Mescousin 
its  channel  was  narrow,  and  it  flowed  onwards 
with  a  gentle  current.      On  the  right  was  seen  a 

11.  Marquette  wtUcs:  "Thus  we  left  the  Waters  flowing  to  Quebec, 
four  or  five  hundred  leagues  from  here,  to  float  on  those  that  would 
thenceforth  take  us  through  strange  lands.  Before  embarking  thereon, 
we  began  all  together  a  new  devotion  to  the  blessed  \'irgin  Immac- 
ulate, which  we  practiced  daily,  addressing  to  her  special  prayers  to 
place  under  her  protection,  both  our  persons  and  the  success  of  our 
voyage;  and,  after  mutually  encouraging  one  another,  we  entered  our 
Canoes." 

12.  Now,  as  then,  the  shifting  sand  bars  make  navigation  of  the 
Wisconsin  difficult  and  impracticable,  although  the  government  hai' 
spent  large  sums  of  money  in  trying  to  improve  it. 

13.  The  latitude  ISIarquette  gives  is  about  right.  43"  is  practicallr 
correct. 


Pere  Marquette 


ON    THE   MISSISSIPPI 


chain  of  high  mountains,^ ^  and  on  the  left  fertile 
fields  interrupted  by  islands  in  many  places. 
They  slowly  followed  the  course  of  the  stream 
to  the  south  and  southwest,  until,  in  forty-two 
degrees  of  latitude/^  they  perceived  a  sensible 
change  in  the  surrounding  country.     There  were 

li.  "High  mountains,"  as  we  now  understand  the  i)lirasc,  is  an 
exaggerated  term  to  apply  to  the  l«jld  bhitt's  about  tluee  or  l'(jur 
hundred  feet  high  on  the  Iowa  side  of  the  Mississippi,  south  of 
McGregor. 

15.  This  is  a  hllle  south  of  Savanna,  111.,  if  Marciuette'.s  latitude  is 
right. 


10  Pere  Marquette 

but  few  hills  and  forests.     The  islands  were  cov- 
ered Avith  beautiful  trees/ ^ 

From  the  time  of  leaving  their  guides,  they 
descended  the  two  rivers  more  than  one  hundred 
leagues,  without  discovering  any  other  inhabit- 
ants of  the  forest,  than  birds  and  beasts.  They 
were  always  on  their  guard,  kindling  a  fire  on  the 
shore  towards  evening,  to  cook  their  food,  and 
afterwards  anchoring  their  canoes  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream  during  the  night.  They  proceeded 
thus  for  more  than  sixty  leagues^'  from  the  place 
where  they  entered  the  Mississippi,  when,  on  the 
25th  of  June,  they  perceived  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  the  footsteps  of  men,  and  a  well-beaten 
path  leading  into  a  beautiful  prairie.  They 
landed,  and,  leaving  the  canoes  under  the  guard 
of  their  boatmen.  Father  Marquette  and  M. 
Joliet  set  forth  to  make  discoveries.  After 
silently  following  the  path  for  about  two  leagues, 
they  perceived  a  village,  situate  on  the  margin 
of  a  river,  and  two  others  on  a  hill,  within  half  a 
league  of  the  first.  As  they  approached  nearer, 
they  gave  notice  of  their  arrival  by  a  loud  call. 
Hearing  the  noise,  the  Indians  came  out  of  their 
cabins,  and,  having  looked  at  the  strangers  for  a 

16.  Sparks  has  not  given  us  the  whole  of  the  famous  journal.  Among 
other  interesting  things  in  this  connection  Marquette  writes:  "When 
we  cast  our  nets  into  the  water  we  caught  sturgeon,  and  a  very  extraor- 
dinary kind  of  fish.  It  resembles  the  trout,  with  this  difference,  that 
its  mouth  is  larger.  Near  its  nose — which  is  smaller,  as  are  also  the 
eyes — is  a  large  bone,  shaped  like  a  woman's  corset-bone,  three  fingers 
wide  and  a  cubit  long,  at  the  end  of  which  is  a  disk  as  wide  as  one's 
hand.  This  frequently  causes  it  to  fall  backward  when  it  leaps  out  of 
the  water."     This  was  the  paddle  fish,  or  spoonbill  sturgeon. 

17.  This  was  in  about  41°  latitude. 


Pere  Marquette  11 

while,  they  deputed  four  of  their  elders  to  talk 
^  ith  them,  who  slowly  advanced.  Two  of  them 
brought  pipes  ornamented  with  feathers,  which, 
\\  ithout  speaking,  they  elevated  towards  the  sun, 
as  a  token  of  friendship.  Gaining  assurance 
from  this  ceremony.  Father  INlarquette  addressed 
them,  inquiring  of  what  nation  they  w^ere.  They 
answered,  that  they  were  Illinois,  and,  offering 
their  pipes,  invited  the  strangers  to  enter  the  vil- 
lage; where  they  were  received  with  every  mark 
of  attention,  conducted  to  the  cabin  of  the  chief, 
and  complimented  on  their  arrival  by  the  natives, 
who  gathered  round  them,  gazing  in  silence. 

After  they  were  seated,  the  calumet^ ^  w^as  pre- 
sented to  them,  and,  while  the  old  men  were 
smoking  for  their  entertainment,  the  chief  of  all 
the  Illinois  tribes  sent  them  an  invitation  to  at- 
tend a  council  at  his  village.  They  were  treated 
by  him  with  great  kindness,  and  Father  Mar- 
quette, having  explained  to  him  the  motives  of 
this  voyage,  enforcing  each  part  of  his  speech 
with  a  present,  the  chief  in  reply  expressed  his 
approbation;  but  urged  him,  in  the  name  of  the 
whole  nation,  not  to  incur  the  risks  of  a  further 
voyage,  and  rewarded  his  presents  by  the  gift  of 
a  calumet. 

The  council  was  followed  by  a  feast,  consist- 
ing of  four  courses,  from  each  of  w^hich  they 
were  fed  with  much  ceremony;  and  afterwards 

18.  The  calumet  was  a  pipo  tliat  usually  consisted  of  a  bowl  of  red 
stone  and  a  long  reed  stem.  In  this  the  Indians  smoked  tobacco,  passing 
the  pipe  from  one  to  another  in  token  of  peace  and  friendship.  To  hold 
up  the  c^Jnmet  was  a  signal  of  peace. 


12 


Pere  Marquette 


THE   GIFT   OF   THE   CALUMET 


they  were  conducted  in  state  through  the  village, 
receiving  many  presents  of  girdles  and  garters 
from  the  natives.  The  following  day,  they  took 
leave  of  the  chief,  promising  to  return  in  four 
moons,  and  were  accompanied  to  their  canoes, 
with  every  demonstration  of  joy,  by  more  than 
six  hundred  savages. 

Before  leaving  this  nation,  Father  Marquette 


Pere  Marquette  13 

remarked  some  of  their  peculiarities.  The  name 
Illiriois,  in  the  native  language,  signifies  men,  as 
if  implying  thereby,  that  other  tribes  are  brutes 
in  comparison,  which  in  some  sense  Father  Mar- 
quette thought  to  be  true,  as  they  were  more 
civilized  than  most  of  the  tribes.  Their  lan- 
guage, on  the  borders  of  the  river,  was  a  dialect 
of  the  Algonquin,  and  was  understood  by  Father 
Marquette.  In  the  form  of  their  bodies  the 
Illinois  were  light  and  active.  They  were  skilful 
in  the  use  of  arms,  brave,  but  mild  and  tractable 
in  disposition.  They  were  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  use  of  leather,  and  iron  tools,  their  weapons 
being  made  of  stone,  and  their  clothing  of  the 
skins  of  wild  beasts.  The  soil  was  rich  and  pro- 
ductive, and  game  abundant. 

After  this  peaceful  interview  with  the  natives, 
the  voyagers  embarked  again,  and  passed  down 
the  stream,  looking  out  for  the  river  Pehitanoni 
(Missouri),  which  empties  into  the  Mississippi 
from  the  northwest.  They  observed  high  and 
steep  rocks,  on  the  face  of  which  were  the  figures 
of  two  monsters,  which  a|)peared  as  if  painted  in 
green,  red,  and  blue  colors;  frightful  in  appear- 
ance, but  so  well  executed,  as  to  leave  Father 
Marquette  in  doubt,  whether  they  could  be  the 
work  of  savages,  they  Ijeing  also  at  so  great  a 
height  on  tlie  rocks  as  to  be  inaccessible  to  a 
]jainter."* 

19.  These  monsters  Maniuettc  furtlicr  (lcscril)e(l  llius:  "Tliey  are 
as  large  as  a  Calf,  they  have  Horns  on  their  heads  like  those  of  deer,  a 
horrible  look,  red  eyes,  a  beard  like  a  tiger's,  a  faee  somewhat  like  a 
man's,  a  body  covered  with  scales,  and  so  long  a  tail  that  it  winds  all 
aiound  the  body,  passing  alxjve  the  head  and  going  buck  between  the 


14  Pere  Marquette 

As  they  floated  quietly  down  a  clear  and  placid 
stream,  conversing  about  the  figures  they  had 
just  passed,  they  were  interrupted  by  the  sound 
of  rapids  before  them;  and  a  mass  of  floating 
timber,  trunks  and  branches  of  trees,  was  swept 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Pekitanoni  with  such  a 
degree  of  violence,  as  to  render  the  passage 
dangerous.  So  great  was  the  agitation,  that  the 
water  was  thereby  made  very  muddy,  and  it  did 
not  again  become  clear.  ^"  The  Pekitanoni  is 
described  as  a  laro-e  river  flowino-  into  the  Mis- 

O  O 

sissippi  from  the  northwest,  with  several  villages 
on  its  banks. 

At  this  place  Father  Marquette  decided,  that, 
unless  the  Mississippi  altered  its  pre\aous  course, 
it  must  empty  its  waters  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico; 
and  he  conjectured  from  the  accounts  of  the 
natives,  that,  by  following  the  stream  of  the 
Pekitanoni,  a  river  would  be  discovered,  which 
flowed  into  the  Gulf  of  California. ^^ 

About  twenty  leagues  south  of  the  Pekitanoni, 
and  a  little  more  to  the  southeast,  they  discov- 
ered the  mouth  of  another  river,  called  Oua- 
bouskigou    (Ohio),   in   the   latitude   of  thirty-six 

legs,  ending  in  a  fish's  tail."  These  figures  were  on  the  face  of  a  bluft 
near  Alton,  111. 

-20.  What  Father  Marquette  did  not  understand  was,  that  the  JVIis- 
souri  brought  the  mud  from  far  to  the  northwest  and  poured  it  into  the 
clearer  waters  of  the  ^Mississippi.  The  character  of  the  rivers  has  not 
changed  in  this  respect. 

•21.  To  us  this  seems  a  curious  supposition,  and  Father  Marquette 
had  little  idea  what  it  would  mean  to  the  hardy  explorer  who  should  go 
up  the  Missouri,  cross  the  mountains  and  find  the  head  waters  of  the 
Colorado.  Trace  such  a  route  on  a  map  of  the  United  States,  and  read 
au  account  of  the  Lewis  and  Clark  P^yue'litiou. 


Pere  ^Iarquette  15 

degrees;  a  short  distance  above  which,  they  came 
to  a  place  formidable  to  the  savages,  who,  be- 
lieving it  the  residence  of  a  demon,  had  warned 
Father  Marquette  of  its  dangers.  It  proved 
nothing  more  than  a  ledge  of  rocks,  thirty  feet 
high,  against  which  the  waves,  being  contracted 
by  an  island,  ran  with  violence,  and,  being  thrown 
back  with- a  loud  noise,  flowed  rapidly  on  through 
a  narrow  and  unsafe  channel. 

The  Ouabouskigou  came  from  the  eastward, 
where  the  country  was  thickly  inhabited  by  the 
tribe  of  Chuouanons,  a  harmless  and  peaceful 
people,  much  annoyed  by  the  Iroquois,  who  were 
said  to  capture  them  as  slaves,  and  kill  and  tor- 
ture them  cruelly. 

A  little  above  the  entrance  of  this  river  were 
steep  banks,  in  which  the  boatmen  discovered 
iron  ore,  several  veins  of  which  were  visible, 
about  a  foot  in  thickness,  portions  of  it  adhering 
to  the  flint-stones;  and  also  a  species  of  rich 
earth,  of  three  different  colors,  namely,  purple, 
violet,  and  red,  and  a  very  heavy  red  sand,  some 
of  which,  being  laid  on  an  oar,  left  a  stain  during 
fifteen  days.  They  here  first  saw  tall  reeds,  or 
canes,  growing  on  the  shores,  and  began  to  find 
the  mcn'ingouins  (mosquitoes)  very  troublesome; 
the  attacks  of  which,  with  the  heat  of  the  weather, 
obliged  the  voyagers  to  construct  an  awning  of 
the  sails  of  their  canoes. 

Shortly  afterwards  they  saw  savages  armed 
with  muskets,  waiting  their  approach  on  the 
bank  of  the  river.  While  the  boatmen  prepared 
for  a  defence,  Father  Marquette  presented  his 


16  Pere  Marquette 

calumet  and  addressed  them  in  Huron,  to  which 
they  gave  no  answer,  but  made  signals  to  them 
to  land,  and  accept  some  food.  They  conse- 
quently disembarked,  and,  entering  their  cabins, 
were  presented  with  buffalo's  meat,  bear's  oil, 
and  fine  plums.  These  savages  had  guns, 
hatchets,  knives,  hoes,  and  glass  bottles  for  their 
gunpowder.  They  informed  Father  Marquette, 
that  he  was  within  ten  days'  journey  of  the  sea; 
that  they  purchased  their  goods, of  Europeans, 
who  came  from  the  east;  that  these  Europeans 
had  images  and  beads,  played  on  many  instru- 
ments, and  were  dressed  like  himself;  and  that 
they  had  treaied  them  with  much  kindness.  As 
they  had  no  knowledge  of  Christianity,  the  wor- 
thy Father  gave  them  what  instruction  he  could, 
and  made  them  a  present  of  some  medals.  En- 
couraged by  the  information  received  from  these 
savages,  the  party  proceeded  with  renewed  ardor 
on  their  voyage,  between  banks  covered  with 
thick  forests,  that  intercepted  their  view  of  the 
prairies;  in  which,  however,  they  heard  at  no 
great  distance  the  bellowing  of  buffaloes.  They 
also  saw  quails  upon  the  shores,  and  shot  a  small 
parrot. 

They  had  nearly  reached  the  thirty-third  de- 
gree of  latitude, ^^  steering  toward  the  south,  when 
they  discovered  a  village  on  the  river's  side,  called 
Metchigamea.  The  natives,  armed  with  bows 
and  arrows,  clubs,  and  tomahawks,  prepared  to 
attack  them;  some  in  canoes,  trying  to  intercept 
their  course,  others  remaining  on  shore.     Father 

23.  This  was  near  tbp  rnoutb  oi"  the  Saint  Francis  River,  in  Arkansas. 


Pere  Marquette  17 

Marquette  in  vain  presented  his  calumet  of  peace. 
They  were  ready  to  attack,  when  the  elders,  per- 
ceiving at  last  the  calumet,  commanded  the  young 
w^arriors  to  stop,  and,  throwing  their  arms  at  the 
feet  of  the  strangers,  as  a  sign  of  peace,  entered 
their  canoes,  and  constrained  them  to  land, 
thoug-h  not  w^ithout  some  uneasiness. 

As  the  savages  w^ere  not  acquainted  with  any 
of  the  six  languages  spoken  by  Father  Marquette, 
he  addressed  them  by  signs,  until  an  old  man 
was  found,  who  understood  a  little  Illinois. 
Through  this  interpreter,  he  explained  their  in- 
tention of  going  to  the  borders  of  the  sea,  and 
gave  the  natives  some  religious  instruction.  In 
reply  they  answered,  that  whatever  information 
he  desired  might  be  obtained  at  Akamsca  (Ar- 
kansas), a  village  ten  leagues  lower  down  the 
river;  and  presented  them  with  food.  After 
passing  a  night  of  some  anxiety,  they  embarked 
the  following  morning  with  their  interpreter;  a 
canoe  with  ten  savages  preceding  them.  About 
half  a  league  from  Akamsca,  they  were  met  by 
two  canoes  full  of  Indians^  the  chief  of  whom 
presented  his  calumet,  and  conducted  them  to  the 
shore,  where  they  were  hospitably  received  and 
supplied  with  provisions.  Here  they  found  a 
young  man  well  acquainted  with  the  Illinois  lan- 
guage, and  through  him  Father  Marquette  ad- 
dressed the  natives,  making  them  the  usual  pres- 
ents, and  requesting  information  from  them  re- 
specting the  sea.  They  answered,  that  it  was 
within  five  days'  journey  of  Akamsca,  that  they 
knew  nothing  of  the  inhabitants  on  its  borders, 


18  PfcRE  Marquette 

being  prevented  by  their  enemies  from  holding 
intercourse  with  these  Europeans;  that  their 
knives  and  other  weapons  were  purchased  partly 
from  the  eastern  nations,  and  partly  from  a  tribe 
of  Illinois,  four  days'  journey  to  the  westward; 
that  the  armed  savages  whom  the  travellers  had 
met,  were  their  enemies;  that  thev  were  continu- 
ally  on  the  river  between  that  place  and  the  sea; 
and  that,  if  the  voyagers  proceeded  further,  great 
danger  might  be  apprehended  from  them.  After 
this  communication,  food  was  offered,  and  the 
rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in  feasting. 

These  people  were  friendly  and  hospitable, 
but  poor,  although  their  Indian  corn  produced 
three  abundant  crops  in  a  year,  which  Father 
Marquette  saw  in  its  different  stages  of  growth. 
It  was  prepared  for  food  in  pots,  which,  with 
plates  and  other  utensils,  were  neatly  made  of 
baked  earth  by  the  Indians.  Their  language 
was  so  very  difficult,  that  Father  Marquette  de- 
spaired of  being  able  to  pronounce  a  word  of  it. 
Their  climate  in  winter  was  rainy,  but  they  had 
no  snow,  and  the  soil  was  extremely  fertile. 

During  the  evening  the  old  men  held  a  secret 
council.  Some  of  them  proposed  to  murder  the 
strangers,  and  seize  their  effects.  The  chief, 
however,  overruled  this  advice,  and,  sending  for 
Father  Marquette  and  M.  Joliet,  invited  them  to 
attend  a  dance  of  the  calumet,  which  he  after- 
wards presented  to  them  as  a  sign  of  peace. 

The  good  Father  and  his  companions  began 
now  to  consider  what  further  course  they  should 
pursue.     As  it  was  supposed  that  the  Gulf  of 


Pere  Marquette  19 

Mexico  extended  as  far  north  as  thirty-one  de- 
grees and  forty  minutes,  they  beheved  them- 
selves not  to  be  more  than  two  or  three  days' 
journey  from  it;-^  and  it  appeared  to  them  cer- 
tain, that  the  Mississippi  must  empty  itself  into 
that  gulf,  and  not  into  the  sea  through  Virginia, 
at  the  eastward,  because  the  coast  of  Virginia 
was  in  the  latitude  of  thirty-four  degrees,  at 
which  they  had  already  arrived;  nor  yet  into  the 
Gulf  of  California,  at  the  southwest,  because 
they  had  found  the  course  of  the  river  to  be  in- 
variably south.  Being  thus  persuaded  that  the 
main  object  of  their  expedition  was  attained ;  and 
considering,  moreover,  that  they  were  unable  to 
resist  the  armed  savages,  who  infested  the  lower 
parts  of  the  river,  and  that,  should  they  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  the  fruits  of  their 
voyage  and  discoveries  would  be  lost,  they  re- 
solved to  proceed  no  further,  and,  having  in- 
formed the  natives  of  their  determination  and 
rested  another  day,  they  prepared  for  their  re- 
turn. 

After  a  month's  navigation  on  the  Mississippi, 
having  followed  its  course  from  the  forty-second 
to  the  thirty-fourth  degree  of  latitude,  they  left 
the  village  of  Akamsca,  on  the  17tli  of  July,  to 
return  up  the  river.  They  retraced  their  way, 
slowly  ascending  the  stream,  until,  in  about  the 
thirty-eighth  degree  of  latitude,  they  turned  into 
another  river  (Illinois),  which  abridged  their 
route  and  brought  them  directly  to  Lake  Illinois 

23.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  more  than  seven  hundred  miles 
from  the  gulf. 


20  Pere  Marquette 

(^Michigan).  They  were  struck  with  the  fertihty 
of  the  country  through  which  that  river  flowed, 
the  beauty  of  the  forests  and  prairies,  the  variety 
of  the  game,  and  the  numerous  small  lakes  and 
streams  Avhich  they  saw.  The  river  was  broad 
and  deep,  and  navigable  for  sixty-five  leagues, 
there  being,  in  the  season  of  spring  and  part  of 
the  summer,  only  half  a  league  of  portage  be- 
tween its  waters  and  those  flowing  into  Lake 
Illinois.  On  its  banks  they  found  a  village,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  received  them  kindly,  and, 
on  their  departure,  extorted  a  promise  from 
Father  Marquette  to  return  and  instruct  them.-* 
One  of  the  chiefs,  accompanied  by  the  young 
men,  conducted  them  as  far  as  the  lake;  whence 
they  proceeded  to  the  Bay  of  Pauns,  where  they 
arrived  near  the  end  of  September,  having  been 
absent  about  four  months.-^ 

Such  is  the  substance  of  Father  Marquette's 
narrative;  and  the  whole  of  it  accords  so  remark- 
ably with  the  descriptions  of  subsequent  travel- 
lers, and  with  the  actual  features  of  the  country 
through  which  he  passed,  as  to  remove  every 
doubt  of  its  genuineness.  The  melancholy  fate 
of  the  author,  which  followed  soon  afterwards, 
was  probably  the  reason  why  his  expedition  was 


24.  This  village  was  called  Kaskaskia,  and  was  situated  about  seven 
miles  below  the  present  city  of  Ottawa.  There  was  another  Kaskaskia 
to  the  south  and  west  that  became  more  famous. 

25.  This  journey  must  have  been  about  twenty-five  hundred  miles 
long,  and  when  we  consider  the  smallness  of  the  party,  the  frailty  of  their 
two  boats  and  the  savage  wildness  of  both  the  country  and  its  inhabitants, 
the  accomplishment  seems  one  of  the  greatest  in  the  history  of  American 
exploration. 


Pere  Marquette  21 

not    in   a   more    conspicuous    manner    brought 
before  the  pubHc.^^ 

In  addition  to  this  narrative,  nothing  is  known 
of  Marquette,  except  what  is  said  of  him  by 
Charlevoix.  After  returning  from  this  last  ex- 
pedition, he  took  up  his  residence,  and  pursued 
the  vocation  of  a  missionary,  among  the  Miamis 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Chicago.^'  While  pass- 
ing by  water  along  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake 
Michigan  towards  Michillimackinac,  he  entered 
a  small  river,  on  the  18th  of  May,  1675.^8  Hav- 
ing landed,  he  constructed  an  altar,  performed 
mass,  and  then  retired  a  short  distance  into  the 
wood,  requesting  the  two  men,  who  had  charge 
of  his  canoe,  to  leave  him  alone  for  half  an  hour. 
When  the  time  had  elapsed,  the  men  went  to 
seek  for  him  and  found  him  dead.  They  were 
greatly  surprised,  as  they  had  not  discovered  any 
symptoms  of  illness;  but  they  remembered,  that, 
when  he  was  entering  the  river,  he  expressed  a 

26.  In  this  connection  it  is  interesting  to  know  that  Joliet,  who  was 
really  the  explorer  in  charge  of  the  expedition,  spent  the  winter  preparing 
a  full  report  of  his  journey,  which  he  illustrated  with  carefully  drawn 
maps,  and  in  the  spring  started  for  Quebec  with  them.  In  passing 
through  La  Chine  Rapids  his  canoe  was  wrecked,  and  Joliet  barely  es- 
caped with  his  life.  His  precious  reports  and  maps  were  lost  in  the 
rushing  waters.  Father  Manjuctte's  comparatively  brief  journal  and 
his  map  form  the  only  original  records  of  the  expedition,  and  they  are 
preserved  at  St.  Mary's  College,  Montreal.  The  humble  priest  who 
sought  only  to  carry  his  religion  to  the  savages  becomes  the  historian, 
while  the  ambitious  explorer  is  hardly  remembered  in  connection  with 
the  wonderful  journey. 

27.  Always  delicate,  his  health  was  grievously  broken  by  his  severe 
labors  and  privation,  and  his  efforts  to  keep  his  promise  to  the  Illinois 
were  attended  by  terrible  sufferings.  The  winter  was  passed  in  a  bleak 
hut,  and  on  his  return  journey  he  was  not  able  to  walk  much  of  the  time. 

28.  This  river  was  the  one  on  which  the  city  of  Ludington,  Michigan, 
is  now  built. 

Vol.  IX.-3. 


22 


Pere  ^Marquette 


presentiment  that  his  voyage  would  end  there. 
To  this  day  the  river  retains  the  name  of  Mar- 
quette. The  place  of  his  grave,  near  its  bank,  is 
still  pointed  out  to  the  traveller;  but  his  remains 
were  removed  the  year  after  his  death  to  Michilli- 
mackinac.-^ 

'29.  The  final  resting  place  of  fhn  bones  of  Marquette  is  the  little 
village  of  Saint  Agnace,  in  the  mainland  of  the  northern  peninsula  of 
Michigan,  Asest  of  Mackinac  Island.  A  simple  monument  in  the  midst 
of  a  little  park  marks  his  grave. 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  ALAMO 

jEXAS  began  its  struggle  for  inde- 
pendence from  Mexico  in  Septem- 
ber, 1835,  driven  to  it  by  the  fact 
that  under  the  rule  of  the  new  re- 
public their  treatment  was  little 
better  than  it  had  been  while  Mex- 
ico herself  was  under  the  Spanish 
control.  No  sooner,  however,  had  the  Texans 
declared  their  independence  than  General  Cos^ 
led  a  large  detachment  into  the  state  and  de- 
termined to  drive  out  of  it  those  Americans 
who  had  settled  there.  The  Mexican  general 
met  with  so  fierce  a  resistance  that  he  was 
compelled  to  take  refuge  behind  the  walls  of 
the  Alamo  in  San  Antonio  de  Bexar.^  He 
had  seventeen  hundred  men,  but  in  spite  of 
this  fact  the  two  hundred  and  sixteen  Texans 
under  General  Burlison  stormed  the  place,  cap- 
tured  the   Mexican  general  and  sent  him  under 


1.  At  this  time  San  Antonio  had  a  population  of  about  seven  thousand 
Mexicans,  a  small  prop(;rtion  of  whom  were  favorable  to  the  Texan 
cause.  The  majority  had  no  particular  leaning  toward  either  side,  but 
were  willing  to  make  the  best  terms  they  could.  The  San  Antonio 
River  separated  the  town  from  the  Alamo  village  and  fort,  or  mission, 
as  it  was  originally  called.  The  Alamo  proper  was  a  stone  structure 
built  during  the  first  settlement  of  that  locality  by  the  Spaniards,  who 
intended  it  a.s  a  refuge  for  the  colonists  in  case  of  attack  by  the  hostile 
Indians.  A  wall  two  and  a  half  feet  thick  and  eight  feet  high  surrounded 
the  stone  structure  and  enclosed  an  area  of  two  or  three  acres.  It  was 
so  large  that  it  could  not  have  been  projx-rly  garrisoned  by  less  than  a 
thousand  men,  and  the  walls  were  not  thick  enough  to  make  it  a  strung 
furtificatiou, 

2.'J 


"24  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

parole   to  his  brother-in-law,  the  famous  Santa 
Ana.- 

A  garrison  of  about  a  hundred  and  sixty  men 
under  the  joint  command  of  Colonel  Travis^  and 
Colonel  Bowie^  was  in  the  Alamo  in  February  of 
1836.  About  this  time  there  came  to  the  Alamo 
David  Crockett^  of  Tennessee,  a  famous  hunter, 
warrior  and  politician,  who  had  already  repre- 
sented his  district  in  Congress,  where  he  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  rough  and  powerful  oratory. 


2.  Santa  Ana  was  one  of  the  most  famous  of  Mexican  soldiers  and 
politicians.  He  was  prominent  as  a  leader  in  the  expulsion  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  finally  became  president  of  the  republic.  When  Texas 
seceded,  he  advanced  into  that  territory,  but  after  his  A-ictorj'  at  the 
Alamo  was  decisively  defeated  and  captured  at  San  Jacinto  by  General 
Houston,  .\fter  he  had  recognized  the  independence  of  Texas,  he  was 
released,  and  twice  afterwards  he  ser\-ed  as  president  of  ^lexico. 

During  our  war  with  that  country-,  the  Mexicans  under  his  command 
were  several  times  defeated,  and  Santa  Ana  resigned  his  commission. 
In  18o3  he  was  for  the  last  time  made  president,  but  before  his  term 
expired  he  was  for  a  third  time  driven  from  his  coimtrj^  in  disgrace. 

3.  WilUam  B.  Tra\-is,  after  serving  as  a  scout,  had  been  appointed 
lieutenant-colonel  and  sent  by  the  Texan  governor  to  relieve  Colonel 
Xeill  at  the  Alamo.  The  volunteers  there  were  not  ^\-illing  to  accept 
Tra\-is  as  higher  than  second  in  command,  but  wished  to  elect  their  own 
colonel.  In  response  to  this  feeling,  Neill  issued  an  order  for  the  elec- 
tion of  a  lieutenant-colonel,  and  was  about  to  make  his  departure,  but 
the  Texans  seeing  his  piupose  resented  it  and  threatened  Xeill's  life 
unless  he  yielded  to  their  demands.  Accordingly,  imder  his  direction 
James  Bowie  was  elected  full  colonel,  and  when  Tra^'is  reached  the 
garrison  he  found  Bowie  in  full  command.  Tra%'is  brought  ^\^th  him 
a  company  of  regular  recruits,  but  it  was  evident  that  trouble  might  soon 
arise  between  the  rival  commanders. 

4.  This  Colonel  Jas.  Bowie  had  been  a  popular  leader  of  the  Texans, 
and  had  already  defeated  a  large  Mexican  force.  It  is  said  that  in  ont 
of  his  battles  he  broke  his  sword,  but  fought  so  desperately  and  success- 
fully with  the  stump  that  afterwards  he  designed  from  the  broken  blade 
the  terrible  knife,  which  was  known  during  the  Mexican  War  and  the 
Rebellion  as  the  "Bowie  knife." 

5.  Davj'  Crockett  is  so  interesting  a  character  that  a  ionger  account 
of  him  is  piven  in  Volume  VIII. 


The  Fall  of  the  Alamo  25 

On  the  afternoon  of  February  22nd,  a  large 
force  of  Mexicans  under  General  Santa  Ana 
arrived  at  San  Antonio,  and  the  next  morning 
demanded  an  unconditional  surrender  of  the 
fort  and  its  garrison.  Although  the  Texans 
were  taken  almost  completely  by  surprise, 
Travis  answered  the  demand  with  a  cannon  shot, 
and  the  Mexicans  raised  the  red  flag  which 
signified  "no  quarter." 

The  next  morning  the  following  proclamation 
was  issued  by  Colonel  Travis: 

"To  the  people  of  Texas  and 
all  Americans  of  the  world. 

"Commandancy  of  the  Alamo,  Bexar, 
"February  24,  1836. 

"Fellow  Citizens  and  Compatriots, — I  am 
besieged  by  a  thousand  or  more  of  the  Mexicans 
under  Santa  Ana.  I  have  sustained  a  continued 
bombardment  and  cannonade  for  twenty-four 
hours  and  have  not  lost  a  man.  The  enemy 
have  demanded  a  surrender  at  discretion;  other- 
wise the  garrison  is  to  be  put  to  the  sword  if  the 
fort  is  taken.  I  have  answered  the  summons 
with  a  cannon  shot,  and  our  flag  still  waves 
proudly  from  the  walls.  I  shall  never  surrender 
or  retreat.  Then  I  call  on  you  in  the  name  of 
liberty,  patriotism,  and  everything  dear  to  the 
American  character,  to  come  to  our  aid  with  all 
despatch.  The  enemy  are  receiving  reenforce- 
ments  daily,  and  will  no  doubt  increase  to  three 
or  four  thousand  in  four  or  five  days.  Though 
this  call  may  be  neglected,  I  am  determined  to 


26  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

sustain  myself  as  long  as  possible,  and  die  like  a 

soldier  who  never  forgets  what  is  due  to  his  own 

honour  and  that  of  his  country.    Victory  or  death ! 

' '  (Signed) ,     W.  BARRETT  TRAVIS, 

"Lieut -Col.  Com't." 

When  the  Mexicans  were  first  seen  in  San 
Antonio  the  defenders  of  the  Alamo  were  thrown 
into  a  panic,  for  no  one  dreamed  that  enemies 
were  in  the  vicinity;  yet  no  one  of  the  hardy 
garrison  thought  of  flight,  and  after  the  first 
surprise  was  over,  order  was  quickly  restored 
and  everything  put  in  readiness  for  a  bitter  con- 
test. The  possible  conflict  of  authority  between 
Colonel  Bowie  and  Colonel  Travis  w^as  pre- 
vented by  the  fact  that  the  former  had  been 
stricken  with  pneumonia  and  was  lying  in  the 
hospital,  a  very  sick  man. 

It  was  soon  found  that  the  siege  lines  of  the 
enemy  were  not  so  close  but  that  messengers 
might  be  sent  through.  One  or  two  privates 
were  despatched  to  bring  assistance,  but  none 
succeeded  in  doing  so.  On  the  twenty-ninth 
of  February  it  was  resolved  to  send  Captain 
Seguin,  who  spoke  Spanish  fluently,  and  who 
might  by  his  own  personal  influence  accomplish 
what  the  simple  messages  alone  seemed  unable 
to  do.  Seguin  had  no  horse  of  his  own,  so  he 
went  to  Colonel  Bowie  and  borrowed  his  equip- 
ment, though  the  latter  was  so  ill  that  he  scarcely 
recognized  the  man  who  made  the  request. 
After  a  perilous  ride,  in  which  they  were  fired 
upon  by  the  Mexicans,  Seguin  and  his  single  aid 


The  Fall  of  the  Aj.amo  27 

succeeded  in  reaching  the  camp  of  volunteers 
which  was  forming  at  Gonzales.  Here  he  in- 
duced thirty-six  men  to  leave  the  camp  and  pro- 
ceed to  the  Alamo,  which  they  entered,  thus 
raising  the  number  of  defenders  to  about  a 
hundred  and  ninety.  On  the  third  of  March, *^ 
Travis  sent  another  courier  with  a  letter  to  his 
governor.  In  this  he  stated  the  situation  calmly, 
urged  him  to  assist  him,  and  closed  with  the 
following;  words:  "The  bearer  of  this  will  oive 
your  honorable  body  a  statement  more  in  detail, 
should  he  escape  through  the  enemies'  lines. 
God  and  Texas!     Victory  or  death! " 

For  about  ten  days  Travis  held  the  little  fort 
under  a  storm  of  cannon  balls,  which  really 
were  more  alarming  than  destructive,  for  few,  if 
any,  of  the  defenders  were  killed  or  wounded. 
Travis  felt  that  they  had  been  almost  miracu- 
lously preserved,  and  in  all  the  hardy  company 
was  born  a  feeling  that  they  could  not  lose  in 
this  terribly  one-sided  contest.  Every  day  they 
looked  to  the  northward,  hoping  to  see  relief 
coming,  and  every  night  turned  in  disap- 
pointment to  the  little  rest  that  was  allowed 
them.  They  fought  manfully,  wasting  no  am- 
munition and  making  every  shot  count.  Until 
the    final    assault,   the    execution   done   by   the 

6.  The  peof)le  of  Texas  assembled  in  a  general  convention  at  Wash- 
ington on  tiie  lirazos  River,  and  issued  their  declaration  of  independence 
from  Mexico  on  the  second  of  March,  18^G.  That  same  day,  General 
Sam  Houston  called  attention  to  the  perilous  position  of  the  garrison  at 
the  Alamo,  saying,  "Independence  is  declared;  it  nuist  Ix;  maintained. 
Immediate  action  uniteil  with  valor  alone  can  achieve  th^  great  work." 
This  "immediate  action"  was  too  late  for  the  brave  men  in  the  Alamo. 


28  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

guns  was  overwhelmingly  in  favor  of  the 
Texans. 

The  ^Mexicans  had  fixed  on  the  mornins:  of 
the  sixth  of  March  for  the  final  assault.  Their 
infantry  met,  between  midnight  and  dawn,  at 
convenient  distances  from  the  fort,  in  four 
columns.  To  each  column  was  assio^ned  a  com- 
manding  officer  with  a  second  to  take  his  place 
in  case  the  first  was  disabled.  Some  of  the 
columns  were  provided  with  scaling  ladders, 
axes  and  other  implements  by  which  they  might 
mount  the  wall  or  open  breaches  in  it.  The 
cavalry  was  stationed  at  different  points  sur- 
rounding the  fort,  so  that  they  would  be  able 
to  cut  off  any  fugitives  who  might  escape  from 
the  fort.  The  attack  was  probably  led  by 
General  Castrillon,  a  Spaniard,  who  had  already 
had  a  brilliant  military  career. 

It  is  not  thought  that  Santa  Ana  engaged  per- 
sonally in  the  assault,  as  it  is  known  that  before 
the  advance  was  made,  he  Avas  stationed  with 
several  bands  of  music  and  a  battery  about  five 
hundred  yards  south  of  the  Alamo,  and  that 
from  this  point  he  gave  the  bugle-signal  for  the 
advance.  At  double-quick  time  the  columns 
advanced  simultaneously  against  the  little  fort, 
one  rushing  through  a  breach  which  had  already 
been  made  in  the  walls  at  the  north,  a  second 
storming  the  chapel  and  a  third  scaling  the  west 
barrier. 

General  Cos,  who  had  been  captured  by  the 
Texans  the  year  before  and  who  was  released 
on  parole,  broke  his  word  of  honor  and  led  the 


The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 


29 


THE   MEXICANS    RUSHED   TO   THE   WALLS 

storming  column  against  the  cluipel.  All  this 
had  been  so  planned  that  the  several  columns 
should  reach  the  walls  of  the  fort  just  as  the 
coming  dawn  gave  light  enough  to  guide  their 
movements.  When  the  hour  came,  the  bugle 
sounded,  and  the  Mexicans,  maddened  by  their 


30  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

losses  and  determined  to  avenge  themselves  on 
this  courageous  little  troop,  rushed  forward  to 
the  walls  while  their  bands  played  the  assassin 
music  that  signified  "no  quarter." 

It  is  difficult  to  give  an  orderly  account  of  the 
conflict  which  followed,  but  some  incidents 
stand  out  boldly.  General  Cos  was  repulsed 
from  the  chapel,  and  the  column  which  attacked 
the  north  wall  was  badly  cut  before  it  succeeded 
in  making  an  entrance.  Here  at  the  breach 
they  met  Colonel  Travis  in  person,  and  here 
after  the  action  he  was  found  dead  with  a  bullet 
hole  through  his  head,  and  by  his  side  a  Mexican 
officer  pierced  to  the  heart  by  a  sword  still  held 
in  the  hand  of  the  dead  Texan.  On  the  west 
side  the  walls  were  scaled,  and  after  bitter 
fighting  the  garrison,  driven  from  the  outer 
defenses,  took  refuge  in  the  low  barracks  and 
other  buildings,  where,  being  more  united,  they 
could  fight  to  better  advantage.  However,  there 
was  no  easy  means  of  communication  between 
the  buildings,  and  thus  the  surviving  Texans 
soon  were  broken  up  into  small  groups,  fighting 
desperately  against  the  overwhelming  numbers 
of  the  Mexicans.  There  was  no  need  of  leader- 
ship, however,  or  of  direction  from  officers. 
The  Mexicans  purposed  to  allow  no  quarter, 
and  nothing  remained  for  the  Texans  except 
that  each  man  should  fight  to  the  last,  doing  as 
great  execution  as  he  could  before  finally  falling 
under  the  weight  of  numbers. 

Again  and  again  the  enemy  charged  upon  the 
little   buildings,   while   from   the   windows   and 


The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 


31 


THE    DEFENDKKS    WERE   ACTIVE 


loopholes  the  crack  of  rifles  and  the  whiz  of 
1)  111  lets  showed  that  the  living  defenders  were 
slill  active.  It  is  not  exaggerating  to  say  tliat 
the  assailants  fell  in  heaps,  for  around  each 
little  building  and  before  the  long  barracks  the 
oarnage  was  dreadful.     One  by  one,  however, 


32  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

the  buildings  were  carried  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet,  and  the  Httle  groups  of  Texans  broken 
up  and  destroyed.  The  last  point  to  yield  was 
the  chapel,  which  seems  to  have  been  held  by  a 
somewhat  larger  force  than  any  of  the  other 
buildings.  However,  after  the  parade  grounds 
were  cleared  and  tlie  other  companies  destroyed, 
it  was  possible  to  burn  the  most  of  the  fort  and 
thus  batter  it  down  and  kill  its  brave  defenders. 

It  is  said  that  toward  the  close  of  the  strugofle 
in  the  chapel,  Lieutenant  Dickinson  was  seen 
to  leap  from  one  of  the  windows  with  a  small 
child  in  his  arms,  and  that  Ijoth  were  shot  as 
they  leaped.  This  was  perhaps  the  last  act  in 
the  great  tragedy,  for  if  any  were  alive  in  the 
chapel  after  the  lieutenant  made  his  attempted 
escape,  they  were  quickly  bayonetted  where  they 
stood. 

With  the  dead  and  dpng  strewn  around,  Santa 
Ana  entered  the  fort.  What  he  saw  there,  we 
cannot  attempt  to  describe,  but  a  few  things  we 
must  mention.  In  his  own  room  they  found 
Colonel  Bowie  dead  in  his  bed,  where  he  had 
lain  too  sick  to  rise;  but  he  had  had  strength  to 
use  his  weapons,  for  four  Mexicans  had  fallen, 
shot  to  death  in  the  room,  while  a  fifth  lay  across 
the  bed  with  the  Colonel's  terrible  knife  sticking 
in  his  heart.  Near  the  door  of  the  magazine  it  is 
said  that  they  found  Major  Evans,  the  master 
of  ordnance,  shot  down  with  a  burning  match 
in  his  hand,  before  he  could  fire  the  powder  ap.d 
blow  the  fort  and  his  enemies  into  the  air. 

Upon  a  high  platform  in  one  corner,  there 


The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 


33 


COLONEL   BOWIE    HAD    HAD   STRENGTH   TO   USE    HIS   WEAPONS 

was  a  small  cannon  which  was  turned  upon  the 
Mexicans  in  the  fort  and  did  terrible  execution. 
AYho  handled  it  is  not  exactly  known,  but  near 
it  were  found  the  bodies  of  David  Crockett  and 
five  of  his  companions.  It  is  said,  though  pos- 
sibly without  much  foundation,  that  when  Santa 


34  The  Fall  of  the  Alamo 

Ana  stepped  into  the  courtyard  he  found  Crockett 
and  his  companions  still  fighting. 

Concealed  in  one  of  the  rooms  under  some 
mattresses,  five  men  were  found,  and  under  a 
bridge  crossing  an  irrigating  ditch  another  was 
discovered.  All  these  were  immediately  shot 
by  the  orders  of  Santa  Ana,  and  so  hastily  and 
excitedly  was  it  all  done  that  a  Mexican  was 
killed  w^th  them  by  accident.  The  wife  of 
Lieutenant  Dickinson,  a  negro  servant  of  Travis, 
and  a  few  Mexican  women  were  the  only  human 
beings  whose  lives  were  spared. 

Thus  fell  the  Alamo.  In  thinking  of  this 
bloody  tragedy,  we  must  remember  that  these 
were  simple  citizens,  bound  together  by  no  tie 
save  their  affection  for  one  another  and  their 
loyalty  to  a  state  of  whose  independence  they 
were  as  yet  ignorant,  for  though  Texas  was  then 
the  "Lone  Star  State,"  no  intimation  of  the 
Texas  declaration  of  independence  had  reached 
Travis  or  his  devoted  followers.  According  to 
the  report  of  General  Santa  Ana,  the  action 
lasted  but  thirty  minutes  from  the  time  the 
enemy  entered  the  walls  till  the  resistance  was 
completely  quelled. 

So  many  false  reports  have  been  made  of  the 
number  engaged  in  this  struggle  that  it  is  im- 
possible even  now  to  tell  definitely.  We  do 
know  that  the  number  of  Texans  was  less  than 
two  hundred,  and  it  is  probable  that  about 
twenty-five  hundred  Mexicans  were  engaged  in 
the  assault.  All  the  Texans  were  killed,  and 
from  the  various  accounts  we  are  led  to  infer 


THE   CAJSNON    DID    TEKKIBLE   EXECUTION 


The  Fall  of  the  Alamo  35 

that  about  five  hundred  Mexicans  fell,  a  number 
which  shows  that  the  defense  of  the  Texans  was 
indeed  fierce  and  bloody. 

The  history  of  our  country  does  not  show  any 
incident  of  oreater  bravery  or  more  heroic  self- 
sacrifice,  and  it  is  hardly  to  be  conceived  that 
such  a  defense  will  ever  be  excelled.  This  was 
no  disciplined  force  fighting  under  trained 
officers,  but  a  group  of  simple,  manly  men,  not 
agreeing  in  all  things,  but  united  with  the  one 
idea  of  fighting  against  cruelty  and  oppression. 

On  the  Capitol  grounds  at  Austin,  Texas,  a 
monument  was  erected  in  1891  to  the  heroes  of 
the  Alamo.     On  it  is  this  inscription: 

"Thermopylae  had  her  messenger  of  defeat: 
The  Alamo  had  none." 


THE  ALHAMBRA 

WASHINGTON  IRVING 

Note, — The  Alhambra  is  now  a  beautiful 
ruin,  but  at  one  time  it  was  the  great  fortified 
palace  of  the  Moors  and  the  place  where  they 
made  their  last  stand  against  the  Christian 
Spaniards.  From  its  beautiful  courts  the  Moor- 
ish defenders  were  at  last  driven,  and  with  their 
departure  the  Mohammedan  faith  ceased  as  a 
power  in  Europe. 

The  palace  occupied  but  a  portion  of  the  space 
within  the  walls  of  the  fortress,  which  in  the  time 
of  the  Moors  was  capable  of  containing  an  army 
of  forty  thousand  men.  The  walls,  studded 
with  towers,  stretch  irregularly  round  the  whole 
crest  of  a  lofty  hill  that  overlooks  the  city  and 
forms  a  spire  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  or  Snowy 
Mountains. 

After  the  kingdom  had  passed  into  the  hands 
of  the  Christians,  the  castle  was  occasionally 
inhabited  by  the  Castilian  monarchs.  Early 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  however,  it  was 
abandoned  as  a  court  residence,  its  beautiful 
walls  became  desolate,  and  some  of  them  fell 
to  ruin,  the  gardens  were  destroyed,  and  the 
fountains  ceased  to  play. 

In  1829  Washington  Irving  lived  for  some 
time  within  the  w^alls  of  the  Alhambra  and 
studied  its  history  and  the  legends  of  Spain. 
These   he   has   embodied   in  a  charming  book, 


The  Alhambra 


3T 


from  which  we  draw  a  description  of  the  Al- 
hambra.    Irving  is  writing  of  his  first  visit. 

now  found  ourselves  in  a 
deep,  narrow  ravine,  filled 
with  beautiful  groves,  with  a 
steep  avenue  and  various  foot- 
paths winding  through  it,  bor- 
dered with  stone  seats  and 
ornamented  with  fountains. 
To  our  left,  we  beheld  the  towers  of  the  Alhambra 
beetling  above  us;  to  our  right,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  ravine,  we  were  equally  dominated 
by  rival  towers  on  a  rocky  eminence.  These, 
we  were  told,  were  the  Torres  Vermejos,  or  Ver- 
milion towers,  so  called  from  their  ruddy  hue. 
No  one  knows  their  origin.  They  are  of  a  date 
much  anterior  to  the  Alhambra.  Some  suppose 
them  to  have  been  built  by  the  Romans;  others, 
by  some  wandering  colony  of  Phoenicians.  As- 
cending the  steep  and  shady  avenue,  we  arrived 
at  the  foot  of  a  huge  square  Moorish  tower, 
forming  a  kind  of  barbican,  through  which 
passed  the  main  entrance  to  the  fortress.  This 
portal  is  called  the  Gate  of  Justice,  from  the 
tiiibunal  held  within  its  porch  during  the  Moslem 
domination,  for  the  immediate  trial  of  pettv 
causes;  a  custom  common  to  the  Oriental  nations, 
and  occasionally  alluded  to  in  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures. 

The  great  vestibule,  or  porch  of  the  gate,  is 
formed  by  an  immense  Arabian  arch  of  the  horse- 
shoe form,  which  springs  to  half  the  height  of  the 

Vol.  ix.-- .. 


38 


The  Alhambra 


THE   GATE   OF  JUSTICE 


tower.  On  the  keystone  of  this  arch  is  engraven 
a  gigantic  hand.  Within  the  vestibule,  on  the  key- 
stone of  the  portal,  is  engraven,  in  like  manner,  a 
gigantic  key.  Those  \yho  pretend  to  some 
knowledge  of  Mohammedan  symbols  affirm  that 
the  hand  is  the  emblem  of  doctrine,  and  the  key 


The  Alhambra  39 

of  faith;  the  latter,  they  add,  was  emblazoned  on 
the  standard  of  the  Moslems  when  they  subdned 
Andalusia,  in  opposition  to  the  Christian  em- 
blem of  the  cross. 

It  was  a  tradition  handed  down  from  the  oldest 
inhabitants,  and  which  our  informant  had  from 
his  grandfather,  that  the  hand  and  key  were 
magical  devices  on  which  the  fate  of  the  Alham- 
bra depended.  The  Moorish  king  who  built  it 
was  a  great  magician,  and,  as  some  believed, 
had  sold  himself  to  the  devil,  and  had  laid  the 
whole  fortress  under  a  magic  spell.  By  this 
means  it  had  remained  standing  for  several 
hundred  years,  in  defiance  of  storms  and  earth- 
quakes, while  almost  all  the  other  buildings  of 
tlie  Moors  had  fallen  to  ruin  and  disappeared. 
The  spell,  the  tradition  went  on  to  say,  would 
last  until  the  hand  on  the  outer  arch  should  reach 
down  and  grasp  the  key,  when  the  whole  pile 
would  tumble  to  pieces,  and  all  the  treasures 
buried  beneath  it  by  the  Moors  would  be  revealed. 

After  passing  through  the  barbican  we  as- 
cended a  narrow  lane,  winding  between  walls,, 
and  came  on  an  open  esplanade  within  the  for- 
tress, called  the  Plaza  de  los  Algibes,  or  Place  of 
the  Cisterns,  from  great  reservoirs  which  under- 
mine it,  cut  in  the  living  rock  by  the  Moors,  for 
the  supply  of  the  fortress.  Here,  also,  is  a  well 
of  immense  depth,  furnishing  the  purest  and 
coldest  of  water,  another  monument  of  the 
delicate  taste  of  the  Moors,  who  were  indefati- 
gable in  their  exertions  to  obtain  that  element  in 
its  crystal  purity. 


iO  The  Aliiambra 

In  front  of  the  esplanade  is  the  splendid  pile 
commenced  by  Charles  V.,  intended,  it  is  said, 
to  cclij)se  the  residence  of  the  Moslem  kings. 
With  all  its  grandeur  and  architectural  merit,  it 
appeared  to  us  like  an  arrogant  intrusion,  and 
passing  by  it  we  entered  a  simple,  unostentatious 
portal,  opening  into  the  interior  of  the  Moorish 
palace. 

The  transition  was  almost  magical;  it  seemed 
as  if  we  were  at  once  transported  into  other  times 
and  another  realm,  and  were  treading  the  scenes 
of  Arabian  story.  We  found  ourselves  in  a  great 
court  paved  with  white  marl)le  and  decorated  at 
each  end  with  light  Moorish  peristyles.  It  is 
called  the  court  of  the  xVlberca.  In  the  center 
was  an  immense  basin,  or  fish-pool,  a  hundred 
and  thirty  feet  in  length  by  thirty  in  breadth, 
stocked  with  goldfish,  and  bordered  by  hedges 
of  roses.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  court  rose  the 
great  tower  of  Comares. 

From  the  lower  end,  we  passed  through  a 
Moorish  archway  into  the  renowned  Court  of 
Lions.  There  is  no  part  of  the  edifice  that  gives 
us  a  more  complete  idea  of  its  original  beauty 
and  magnificence  than  this;  for  none  has  suffered 
so  little  from  the  ravages  of  time.  In  the  center 
stands  the  fountain  famous  in  song  and  story. 
The  alabaster  basins  still  shed  their  diamond 
drops,  and  the  twelve  lions  which  support  them 
cast  forth  their  crystal  streams  as  in  the  days  of 
Boabdil.  The  court  is  laid  out  in  flower-beds, 
and  surrounded  ])y  light  Arabian  arcades  of  open 
filigree   work,   supported   by   slender  pillars   of 


The  Alhambra 


41 


=»v-  -  -    - 


IN  THE  COURT  OF  LIONS 


white  marble.  The  architecture,  Hke  that  of  all 
the  other  parts  of  the  palace,  is  characterized  by 
elegance  rather  than  grandeur,  bespeaking  a 
delicate  and  graceful  taste,  and  a  disposition  to 
indolent  enjoyment.  When  we  look  upon  the 
fairy  tracery  of  the  peristyles  and  the  apparently 


4'-2  The  Alhambra 

fragile  fretwork  of  the  walls,  it  is  diflScult  to 
believe  that  so  much  has  survived  the  wear  and 
tear  of  centuries,  the  shocks  of  earthquakes,  the 
violence  of  war,  and  the  quiet,  though  no  less 
baneful,  [)ilferings  of  the  tasteful  traveler.  It 
is  almost  sufficient  to  excuse  the  popular  tra- 
dition that  the  whole  is  protected  by  a  magic 
charm. 

On  one  side  of  the  court  a  portal  richly  adorned 
opens  into  a  lofty  hall  paved  with  white  marble, 
and  called  the  Hall  of  the  Two  Sisters.  A  cupola 
or  lantern  admits  a  tempered  light  from  above, 
and  a  free  circulation  of  air.  The  lower  part  of 
the  walls  is  incrusted  with  beautiful  ]\Ioorish 
tiles,  on  some  of  which  are  emblazoned  the 
escutcheons  of  the  Moorish  monarchs :  the  upper 
part  is  faced  with  the  fine  stucco  work  invented 
at  Damascus,  consisting  of  large  plates  cast  in 
molds  and  artfully  joined,  so  as  to  have  the  ap- 
pearance of  having  been  laboriously  sculptured 
by  the  hand  into  light  relievos  and  fanciful 
arabesques,  intermingled  with  texts  of  the  Koran, 
and  poetical  inscriptions  in  Arabian  and  Celtic 
characters.  These  decorations  of  the  walls  and 
cupolas  are  richly  gilded,  and  the  interstices  pan- 
eled \vith  lapis  lazuli  and  other  brilliant  and  en- 
during colors.  On  each  side  of  the  wall  are  recesses 
for  ottomans  and  arches.  Above  an  inner  porch 
is  a  balcony  which  communicated  with  the  wo- 
men's apartment.  The  latticed  balconies  still 
remain,  from  whence  the  dark-eyed  beauties  of 
the  harem  might  gaze  unseen  upon  the  entertain- 
ments of  the  hall  below. 


The  Alhambra 


43 


THE   HALL   OF  THE  ABENCEREAGES 


It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  this  once 
favorite  a])ocIe  of  Oriental  manners  without 
feeling  the  early  associations  of  Arabian  romance, 
and  almost  expecting  to  see  the  white  arm  of 
some  mysterious  princess  beckoning  from  the 
balcony,  or  some  dark  eye  sparkling  through  the 


41  The  Aliiamrka 

lattice.  Tlic  abode  of  beauty  is  here,  as  if  it 
liad  ])eon  inhabited  but  yesterday — but  where 
are  the  Zoraydas  and  Linderaxas! 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  Court  of  Lions  is 
the  liall  of  the  Al^encerraires,  so  called  from  the 
o;allant  cavaliers  of  that  illustrious  line,  who  were 
here  perfidiously  massacred.  There  are  some 
who  doubt  the  whole  truth  of  this  .story,  but  our 
humble  attendant,  Mateo,  pointed  out  the  very 
wicket  of  the  portal  through  which  they  are  said 
to  have  been  introduced,  one  by  one,  and  the 
white  marble  fountain  in  the  center  of  the  hall, 
where  they  were  beheaded.  He  showed  us  also 
certain  broad,  ruddy  stains  in  the  pavement, 
traces  of  their  blood,  which,  according  to  popular 
belief,  can  never  be  effaced.  Finding  we  listened 
to  him  with  easy  faith,  he  added  that  there  was 
often  heard  at  night,  in  the  Court  of  the  Lions,  a 
low,  confused  sound,  resembling  the  murmurings 
of  a  multitude;  with  now  and  then  a  faint  tink- 
ling, like  the  distant  clank  of  chains.  These 
noises  are  probably  produced  by  the  bubbling 
currents  and  tinkling  falls  of  water,  conducted 
under  the  pavement  through  the  pipes  and 
channels  to  supply  the  fountains;  but  according 
to  the  legend  of  the  son  of  the  Alhambra,  they 
are  made  by  the  spirits  of  the  murdered  Aben- 
cerrages,  who  nightly  haunt  the  scene  of  their 
suffering,  and  invoke  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  on 
their  destroyer. 

From  the  Court  of  Lions  we  retraced  our  steps 
through  the  court  of  the  Alberca,  or  great  fish- 
pool,  crossing  which,  we  proceeded  to  the  tower 


The  Alhambra  45 

of  Comares,  so  called  from  the  name  of  the 
Arabian  architect.  It  is  of  massive  strength  and 
lofty  height,  domineering  over  the  rest  of  the 
edifice  and  overhanging  the  steep  hillside,  which 
descends  abruptly  to  the  banks  of  the  Darro.  A 
Moorish  archway  admitted  us  into  a  vast  and 
lofty  hall,  which  occupies  the  interior  of  the 
tower  and  was  the  grand  audience  chamber  of 
the  Moslem  monarchs,  thence  called  the  hall  of 
Ambassadors.  It  still  bears  the  traces  of  past 
magnificence.  The  walls  are  richly  stuccoed 
and  decorated  with  arabesques,  the  vaulted 
ceilings  of  cedar  wood,  almost  lost  in  obscurity 
from  its  height,  still  gleam  with  rich  gilding  and 
the  brilliant  tints  of  the  Arabian  pencil.  On 
three  sides  of  the  saloon  are  deep  windows,  cut 
through  the  immense  thickness  of  the  walls,  the 
balconies  of  which  look  down  upon  the  verdant 
valley  of  the  Darro,  the  streets  and  convents  of 
the  Albaycin,  and  command  a  prospect  of  the 
distant  Vega.  I  might  go  on  to  describe  the 
other  delightful  apartments  of  this  side  of  the 
palace;  the  Tocador  or  toilet  of  the  Queen,  an 
open  belvedere  on  the  summit  of  the  tower,  where 
the  Moorish  sultanas  enjoyed  the  pure  breezes 
from  the  mountain  and  the  prospect  of  the  sur- 
rounding paradise;  the  secluded  little  patio 
or  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  with  its  alabaster 
fountain,  its  thickets  of  roses  and  myrtles,  of 
citrons  and  oranges;  the  cool  halls  and  grottoes 
of  the  baths,  where  the  glare  and  heat  of  the  day 
are  tempered  into  a  self-mysterious  light  and  a 
pervading  freshness. 


46  The  Alhambra 

An  abundant  supply  of  water,  brought  from 
the  mountains  by  old  Moorish  aqueducts,  circu- 
lates throughout  the  palace,  supplying  its  baths 
and  fish-pools,  sparkhng  in  jets  within  its  halls,  or 
murmuring  in  channels  along  the  marble  pave- 
ments. When  it  has  paid  its  tribute  to  the  royal 
pile,  and  visited  its  gardens  and  pastures,  it 
flows  down  the  long  avenue  leading  to  the  city, 
tinkling  in  rills,  gushing  in  fountains,  and  main- 
taining a  perpetual  verdure  in  those  groves  that 
embower  and  beautify  the  whole  hill  of  the  Al- 
hambra. 

While  the  city  below  pants  with  the  noon-tide 
heat,  and  the  parched  Vega  trembles  to  the  eye, 
the  delicate  airs  from  the  Sierra  Nevada  play 
through  the  lofty  halls,  bringing  with  them  the 
sweetness  of  the  surrounding  gardens.  Every- 
thing invites  to  that  indolent  repose,  the  bliss  of 
Southern  climes;  and  while  the  half-shut  eye 
looks  out  from  shaded  balconies  upon  the  glitter- 
ing landscape,  the  ear  is  lulled  by  the  rustling  of 
groves  and  the  murmur  of  running  streams. 

The  reader  has  had  a  sketch  of  the  interior  of 
the  Alhambra,  and  may  be  desirous  of  a  general 
idea  of  its  vicinity.  The  morning  is  serene  and 
lovely;  the  sun  has  not  gained  suiSScient  power 
to  destroy  the  freshness  of  the  night;  we  will 
mount  to  the  summit  of  the  tower  of  Comares, 
and  take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  Granada  and  its 
environs. 

Come,  then,  worthy  reader  and  comrade, 
follow  my  steps  into  this  vestibule  ornamented 
with  rich  tracery,  which  opens  to  the  hall   of 


The  Alhambra  47 

Ambassadors.  We  will  not  enter  the  hall,  how- 
ever, but  turn  to  the  left,  to  this  small  door, 
opening  in  the  wall.  Have  a  care!  here  are  steep 
Avinding  steps  and  but  scanty  light.  Yet,  up 
this  narrow,  obscure  and  winding  staircase  the 
proud  monarchs  of  Granada  and  their  queens 
have  often  ascended  to  the  battlements  of  the 
tower  to  watch  the  approach  of  Christian  armies 
or  to  gaze  on  the  battles  in  the  Vega.  At  length 
we  are  upon  the  terraced  roof,  and  may  take 
breath  for  a  moment,  while  we  cast  a  general  eye 
over  the  splendid  panorama  of  city  and  country,  of 
rocky  mountain,  verdant  valley  and  fertile  plain; 
of  castle,  cathedral,  Moorish  towers  and  Gothic 
domes,  crumbling  ruins  and  blooming  groves. 

Let  us  approach  the  battlements  and  cast  our 
eyes  immediately  below.  See — on  this  side  we 
have  the  whole  plan  of  the  Alhambra  laid  open 
to  us,  and  can  look  down  into  its  courts  and 
gardens.  At  the  foot  of  the  tower  is  the  Court 
of  the  Alberca  with  its  great  tank  or  fish-pool 
bordered  with  flowers;  and  yonder  is  the  Court 
of  Lions,  with  its  famous  fountain,  and  its  light 
Moorish  arcades;  and  in  the  center  of  the  pile  is 
the  little  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  buried  in  the 
heart  of  the  building,  with  its  roses  and  citrons 
and  shrubbery  of  emerald  green. 

That  belt  of  battlements  studded  with  square 
towers,  straggling  round  the  whole  brow  of  the 
hill,  is  the  outer  boundary  of  the  fortress.  Some 
of  the  towers,  you  may  perceive,  are  in  ruins,  and 
their  massive  fragments  are  buried  among  vines, 
fig-trees  and  aloes. 


tS  The  Aliiambra 

I^t  us  look  on  this  nortlicrn  side  of  tlic  tower. 
It  is  a  giddy  lieight;  the  very  foundations  of  the 
tower  rise  above  the  groves  of  the  steep  hillside. 
And  see,  a  long  fissure  in  the  massive  walls  shows 
that  tlie  tower  has  been  rent  by  some  of  the 
earthquakes  which  from  time  to  time  have 
thrown  Granada  into  consternation;  and  which, 
sooner  or  later,  must  reduce  this  crumbling  pile 
to  a  mere  mass  of  ruin.  The  deep,  narrow  glen 
below  us,  which  gradually  widens  as  it  opens 
from  the  mountains,  is  the  valley  of  the  Darro; 
you  see  the  little  river  winding  its  way  under 
embowered  terraces  and  among  orchards  and 
flower  gardens.  It  is  a  stream  famous  in  old 
times  for  yielding  gold,  and  its  sands  are  still 
sifted  occasionally  in  search  of  the  precious  ore. 

Some  of  those  white  pavilions  which  here  and 
there  gleam  from  among  groves  and  vineyards 
were  rustic  retreats  of  the  Moors,  to  enjoy  the 
refreshment  of  their  gardens. 

The  airy  palace  with  its  tall  white  tow^ers  and 
long  arcades,  which  breast  yon  mountain, 
among  pompous  groves  and  hanging  gardens,  is 
the  Generaliffe,  a  summer  palace  of  the  Moorish 
kings,  to  which  t  ley  resorted  during  the  sultry 
months,  to  enjoy  a  still  more  breezy  region  than 
that  of  the  Alhambra.  The  naked  summit  of 
the  height  above  it,  where  you  behold  some 
shapeless  ruins,  is  the  Silla  del  Moro,  or  seat  of 
the  Moor;  so  called  from  having  been  a  retreat 
of  the  unfortunate  Boabdil  during  the  time  of  an 
insurrection,  where  he  seated  himself  and  looked 
down  mournfully  upon  his  rebellious  city. 


The  Alhambra  49 

A  murmuring  sound  of  water  now  and  then 
rises  from  the  valley.  It  is  from  the  aqueduct 
of  yon  Moorish  mill  nearly  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 
The  avenue  of  trees  beyond  is  the  Alameda 
along  the  bank  of  the  Darro,  a  favorite  resort  in 
evenings,  and  a  rendezvous  of  lovers  in  the  sum- 
mer nights,  when  the  guitar  may  be  heard  at  a 
late  hour  from  the  benches  along  its  walks.  At 
present  there  are  but  a  few  loitering  monks  to 
be  seen  there,  and  a  group  of  water  carriers  from 
the  fountain  of  Avellanos. 

You  start!  'Tis  nothing  but  a  hawk  we  have 
frightened  from  his  nest.  This  old  tower  is  a 
complete  brooding-place  for  vagrant  birds.  The 
swallow  and  martlet  abound  in  every  chink  and 
cranny,  and  circle  about  it  the  whole  day  long; 
while  at  night,  when  all  other  birds  have  gone  to 
rest,  the  moping  owl  comes  out  of  its  lurking 
place  and  utters  its  boding  cry  from  the  battle- 
ments. See  how  the  hawk  we  have  dislodged 
sweeps  away  below  us,  skimming  over  the  tops 
of  the  trees,  and  sailing  up  to  ruins  above  the 
Generalifie. 

Let  us  leave  this  side  of  the  tower  and  turn 
our  eyes  to  the  west.  Here  you  behold  in  the 
distance  a  range  of  mountains  bounding  the 
Vega,  the  ancient  barrier  between  Moslem 
Granada  and  the  land  of  the  Christians.  Among 
the  heights  you  may  still  discern  warrior  towns, 
whose  gray  walls  and  battlements  seem  of  a 
piece  with  the  rocks  on  which  tliey  are  built; 
while  here  and  there  is  a  solitary  atalaya  or 
watch-tower,  mounted  on  some  lofty  point,  and 


50  The  Alhambra 

looking  down  as  if  it  were  from  the  sky,  into  the 
valleys  on  either  side.  It  was  down  the  defiles 
of  these  mountains,  by  the  ])ass  of  Lope,  that  the 
Christian  armies  descended  into  the  Vega.  It 
was  round  the  base  of  yon  gray  and  naked 
mountain,  almost  insulated  from  the  rest,  and 
stretching  its  bald,  rocky  promontory  into  the 
bosom  of  the  plain,  that  the  invading  squadrons 
would  come  bursting  into  view,  with  flaunting 
banners  and  the  clangor  of  drums  and  trumpets. 
How  chano^ed  is  the  scene!  Instead  of  the  glit- 
tering  line  of  mailed  warriors,  we  behold  the 
patient  train  of  the  toilful  muleteer,  slowly  mov- 
ing along  the  skirts  of  the  mountain. 

Behind  that  promontory  is  the  eventful  bridge 
of  Pinos,  renowned  for  many  a  bloody  strife  be- 
tween Moors  and  Christians;  but  still  more  re- 
nowned as  being  the  place  where  Columbus  was 
overtaken  and  called  back  by  the  messenger  of 
Queen  Isabella  just  as  he  was  departing  in 
despair  to  carry  his  project  of  discovery  to  the 
court  of  France. 

Behold  another  place  famous  in  the  history 
of  the  discoverer:  yon  line  of  walls  and  towers, 
gleaming  in  the  morning  sun  in  the  very  center 
of  the  Vega;  the  city  of  Santa  Fe,  built  by  the 
Catholic  sovereigns  during  the  siege  of  Granada, 
after  a  conflagration  had  destroyed  their  camp. 
It  was  to  these  walls  that  Columbus  was  called 
back  by  the  heroic  queen,  and  Avithin  them  the 
treaty  was  concluded  that  led  to  the  discovery  of 
the  Western  World. 

Here,  toward  the  south,  the  eye  revels  on  the 


The  Alhambra  51 

luxuriant  beauties  of  the  Vega,  a  blooming 
wilderness  of  grove  and  garden,  and  teeming 
orchards,  with  the  Xenil  winding  through  it  in 
silver  links  and  feeding  innumerable  rills,  con- 
ducted through  ancient  Moorish  channels,  which 
maintain  the  landscape  in  perpetual  verdure. 
Here  are  the  beloved  bowers  and  gardens  and 
rural  retreats  for  which  the  Moors  fought  with 
such  desperate  valor.  The  very  farmhouses  and 
hovels  which  are  now  inhabited  by  the  boors 
retain  traces  of  arabesques  and  other  tasteful 
decorations,  which  show  them  to  have  been 
elegant  residences  in  the  days  of  the  Moslems. 

Beyond  the  embowered  region  of  the  Vega  you 
behold,  to  the  south,  a  line  of  arid  hills  dow^n 
which  a  long  train  of  mules  is  slowly  moving.  It 
was  from  the  summit  of  one  of  those  hills  that 
the  unfortunate  Boabdil  cast  back  his  last  look 
upon  Granada  and  gave  vent  to  the  agony  of 
his  soul.  It  is  the  spot  famous  in  song  and 
story,  "The  last  sigh  of  the  Moor." 

Now  raise  your  eyes  to  the  snowy  summit  of 
yon  pile  of  mountains,  shining  like  a  white 
summer  cloud  on  the  blue  sky.  It  is  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  the  pride  and  delight  of  Granada;  the 
source  of  her  cooling  breezes  and  perpetual  ver- 
dure, of  her  gushing  fountains  and  perennial 
streams.  It  is  this  glorious  pile  of  mountains 
that  gives  to  Granada  that  coml)ination  of  de- 
lights so  rare  in  a  southern  city:  the  fresh 
vegetation  and  the  temperate  airs  of  a  northern 
climate,  with  the  vivifying  ardor  of  a  tropical 
sun,  and  the  cloudless  azure  of  a  southern  sky. 


52  The  Alhambra 

It  is  this  aerial  treasury  of  snow,  whieh,  melting 
in  proportion  to  tlie  increase  of  the  summer  heat, 
sends  down  rivulets  and  streams  through  every 
glen  and  gorge  of  the  Alxuxarras,  diffusing 
emerald  verdure  and  fertility  throughout  a  chain 
of  happy  and  sequestered  valleys. 

These  mountains  may  well  be  called  the  glory 
of  Granada.  They  dominate  the  whole  extent 
of  Andalusia,  and  may  be  seen  from  its  most 
distant  parts.  The  muleteer  hails  them  as  he 
views  their  frosty  peaks  from  the  sultry  level  of 
the  plain;  and  the  Spanish  mariner  on  the  deck 
of  his  bark,  far,  far  off  on  the  bosom  of  the  blue 
Mediterranean,  watches  them  with  a  pensive 
eye,  thinks  of  delightful  Granada,  and  chants  in 
low  voice  some  old  romance  about  the  Moors. 

But  enough,  the  sun  is  high  above  the  moun- 
tains, and  is  pouring  his  full  fervor  upon  our 
heads.  Already  the  terraced  roof  of  the  town 
is  hot  beneath  our  feet;  let  us  abandon  it,  and 
descend  and  refresh  ourselves  under  the  arcades 
by  the  fountain  of  the  Lions. 


HERVE  RIEL 

ROBERT  BROWNING 

Note, — This  poem  of  Browning's  furnishes 
its  own  historical  setting;  it  gives  date  and  places 
and  names.  All,  in  fact,  that  it  does  not  tell  us 
is  that  the  battle  at  Cape  la  Hogue  was  a  part  of 
the  struggle  between  England  and  France  under- 
taken because  Louis  XIV  of  France  would  not 
acknowledge  William  III  as  king  of  England. 

The  poem  is  written  in  characteristic  Browning 
style.  You  have  read  in  the  earlier  volumes 
An  Incident  of  the  French  Camp,  How  They 
Brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  to  Aix,  and 
The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  and  are  therefore 
familiar  with  Browning's  custom  of  leaving  out 
words,  using  odd,  informal  words  which  another 
man  might  think  out  of  place  in  poetry,  and 
employing  strange,  sometimes  jerky,  meters. 


On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred 

ninety-two. 
Did   the   English   fight   the   French — woe   to 

France! 
And,  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  thro' 

the  blue, 
Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of 

sharks  pursue. 
Came  crowding  ship  on  ship  to  Saint  Malo  on 

the  Ranee, 
With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 

Vol.  IX.-5.  63 


,54  IIervk  Riel 

'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,  with  the  victor 
in  full  chase; 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great 
ship,  Damfreville; 
Close  on  him  fled,  f»Teat  and  small, 
Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all; 
And  they  signalled  to  the  place 
"Help  the  winners  of  a  race! 

Get    us   guidance,    give    us   harbor,    take    us 

quick — or,  quicker  still. 
Here's  the  English  can  and  will ! " 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk  and 
leapt  on  board; 
"Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like 
these  to  pass?"  laughed  they: 
"Rocks  to  starboard,  rocks  to  port,  all  the  pas- 
sage scarred  and  scored, 
Shall  the  "Formidable"  here  with  her  twelve  and 
eighty  guns 
Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single 
narrow  way. 
Trust  to  enter  where  'tis  ticklish  for  a  craft  of 
twenty  tons, 
And  with  flow  at  full  beside  ? 
Now,  'tis  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  mooring  ?     Rather  say, 
While  rock  stands  or  water  runs, 
Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay!" 


Then  was  called  a  council  straight. 
Brief  and  bitter  the  debate: 


Herve  Kiel  55 

"Here's  the  English  at  our  heels;  would  you  have 

them  take  in  tow 
All  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern 

and  bow, 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  Sound  ? 
Better  run  the  ships  aground ! " 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech). 
Not  a  minute  more  to  wait! 
Let  the  Captains  all  and  each 
Shove  ashore,  then  blow  up,  burn  the  vessels 
on  the  beach! 
France  must  undergo  her  fate. 

"Give  the  word!"     But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard ; 

For  up  stood,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck 
amid  all  these 
— A  Captain  ?    A  Lieutenant  ?     A  Mate — first, 
second,  third  ? 
No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 
With  his  betters  to  compete! 
But  a  simple  Breton  sailor  pressed  by  Tour- 
ville  for  the  fleet, 
A  poor  coasting-pilot  he,  Herve  Riel  the  Croi- 
sickese. 

And,  "What  inockery  or  malice  have  we  here  .'^" 

cries  Herve  Riel : 
"Are    you    mad,    you    Malouins  ?     Are    you 

cowards,  fools,  or  rogues  ? 
Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals,  me  who  look  the 

soundings,  tell 
On  my  Angers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every 

swell 


.)6  Herve  Riel 

"IVixt  the  offing  here  and  (ireve  where  the 
river  disembogues  ^ 
Are  you  bought  by  English  gold  ?     Is  it  love  the 
lying's  for? 
Morn  and  eve,  night  and  day, 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay, 
Entered  free  and  anchored   fast  at  the  foot  of 
Solidor. 
Burn  the  fleet  and  ruin  France  ?     That  were 
worse  than  fifty  Ilogues! 
Sirs,  they  know  I  speak  the  truth!     Sirs, 
believe  me  there's  a  Avay! 
Only  let  me  lead  the  line, 

Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer. 
Get  this  "Formidable"  clear, 
iVIake  the  others  follow  mine. 
And  I  lead  them,  most  and  least,  by  a  passage  I 
know  well. 
Right  to  Solidor  past  Greve, 

And  there  lay  them  safe  and  sound; 
And  if  one  ship  misbehave, 

— Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground. 
Why,  I've  nothing  but  my  life — here's  my  U^ead! " 
cries  Herve  Riel. 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait. 
"Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great! 

Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squad- 
ron!" cried  its  chief. 
Captains,  give  the  sailor  place! 

He  is  Admiral,  in  brief. 
Still  the  north-wind,  by  God's  grace! 
See  the  noble  fellow's  face, 


Herve  Riel  57 

As  the  big  ship  with  a  bound, 
Clears  the  entry  Hke  a  hound. 
Keeps  the  passage  as  its  inch  of  way  were  the 
wide  sea's  profound! 
See,  safe  thro'  shoal  and  rock, 
How  they  follow  in  a  flock, 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates 
the  ground. 
Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief 
The  peril,  see,  is  past. 
All  are  harbored  to  the  last. 
And  just  as  Herve  Riel  hollas  "Anchor!" — sure 

as  fate 
Up  the  English  come,  too  late! 

So,  the  storm  subsides  to  calm: 
They  see  the  green  trees  wave 
On  the  o'erlookino^  Greve. 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm. 
"Just  our  rapture  to  enhance. 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay, 
Gnash  their  teeth  and  glare  askance. 

As  they  cannonade  away! 
'Neath  rampired  Solidor  pleasant  riding  on  the 

Ranee!" 
How  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  Captain's 

countenance! 
Out  burst  all  with  one  accord, 
"This  is  Paradise  for  Hell! 
Let  France,  let  France's  King 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing!" 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 
"Herve  Riel!" 


oS 


Herve  Kiel 


THEY   FOLLOW   IN   A   FLOCK 


As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more, 
Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 
In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes, 

Just  the  same  man  as  before. 

Then  said  Damfreville,  "My  friend, 

I  must  speak  out  at  the  end. 


Herve  Riel  59 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard. 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  hps: 
You  have  saved  the  King  his  ships. 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
'Faith  our  sun  was  near  echpse! 
Demand  whate'er  you  will, 
France  remains  your  debtor  still. 
Ask  to  heart's  content  and  have!  or  my  name's 
not  Damfreville." 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 
On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke. 
As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 
Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue: 
"Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say, 

Since  on  board  the  duty's  done. 

And  from  ]\Ialo  Roads  to  Croisic  Point,  what 
is  it  but  a  run  ? — 
Since  'tis  ask  and  have,  I  may — 

Since  the  others  go  ashore — 
Come!     A  good  whole  holiday! 

Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,  whom  I  call  the 
Belle  Aurore!" 
That  he  asked  and  that  he  got — nothing  more. 

Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost: 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisic  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 
On  a  single  fishing  smack. 

In  memory  of  the  man  but  for  whom  had  gone 
to  wrack 
All  that  France  saved  from  the  fight  whence 
Enijlund  l)ore  the  bell. 


60 


Herv6  Riel 


Go  to  Paris:  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank! 

You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to 
Herve  Riel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Herve  Riel,  accept  my  verse! 
In  my  verse,  Herve  Riel,  do  thou  once  more 
Save  the  squadron,  honor  France,  love  thy  wife, 
the  Belle  Aurore! 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WATERLOO 

LORD  BYRON 

5HERE  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by 
night, 
And   Belgium's   capital   had   gath- 
ered then 
Her  Beauty  and  her  Chivalry,  and 

bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women 
and  brave  men; 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
Soft    eyes    looked    love  to  eyes  which  spake 

again. 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell ; 
But  hush!  hark!  a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  ris- 
ing; knell! 

Did  ye  not  hear  it? — No;  'twas  but  the  wind, 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street; 
On  with  the  dance!  let  joy  be  unconfined; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  Youth  and  Pleasure 

meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  Hours  with  flying  feet — 
But,  hark! — that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once 

more 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat; 
And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before! 
Arm!  Arm!  it  is — it  is — the  cannon's  opening 

roar! 

01 


62 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


BUT   hark! 


Within  a  windowed  niche  of  that  high  hall 
Sate    Brunswick's    fated    chieftain;    he    did 

hear 
That  sound  the  first  amidst  the  festival. 
And  caught  its  tone  with  Death's  prophetic 

ear. 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo  63 

And  when  they  smiled  because  he  deemed  it 

near, 
His  heart  more  truly  knew  that  peal  Joo  well 
Which  stretched  his  father  on  a  bloody  bier, 
And  roused  the  vengeance  blood  alone  could 

quell: 
He  rushed  into  the  field,  and,  foremost,  fightino;, 

fell. 

Ah!  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro. 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
x-Vnd  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness; 
And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking 

sighs 
Which  ne'er  might  be  repeated;  who  could 

guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  mutual  eyes. 
Since    upon   night   so   sweet   such   awful    morn 

could  rise! 

And  there  was   mounting  in   hot  haste:   the 

steed. 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car. 
Went  ])ouring  forward  with  imj)etuous  speed. 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war; 
And  the  deep  thunder  peal  on  peal  afar; 
And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
llousenl  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star; 
While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dnnil). 
Or  whispering,  with  white  lips — "The  foe!  They 
come!  They  come!" 


64  The  Battle  of  Waterloo 

And  wild  and  high  the  "Cameron's  gathering" 

rose ! 
The  war-note  of  Lochiel,  which  Albyn's  hills 
Have  heard,  and  heard,  too,  have  her  Saxon 

foes : — 
How  in  the  noon  of  night  that  pibroch   thrills. 
Savage  and  shrill!     But  with  the  breath  which 

fills 
Their  mountain-pipe,  so  fill  the  mountaineers 
Witli  the  fierce  native  darino;  which  instills 
The  stirrino;  memorv  of  a  thousand  vears, 
And  Evan's,  Donald's  fame  rings  in  each  clans- 
man's ears! 

And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green 

leaves, 
Dewy  with  nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass. 
Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves. 
Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas ! 
Ere  evening;  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass 
Which   now   beneath   them,   but   above   shall 

grow 
In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 
Of  livincj  valor,  rollino;  on  the  foe 
And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  moulder  cold 

and  low. 

Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life. 
Last  eve  in  Beauty's  circle  proudly  gay, 
The    midnight    brought    the   signal-sound    of 

strife, 
The  morn  the  marshalling  in  arms, — the  day 
Battle's  magnificently-stern  array! 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


65 


The  thunder-clouds  close  o'er  it,  which  when 

rent 
The  earth  is  covered  thick  with  other  clay, 
Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and 

pent, 
Rider  and  horse, — friend,  foe, — in  one  red  burial 

blent. 


ASCENT  OF  THE  JUNGFRAU 

JOHN  TYXDALL 

I  IAD  spent  nearly  a  fortnight  at  the 
Eggischhorn  in  1863,  employing  alter- 
nate days  in  wandering  and  musing 
over  the  green  Alps,  and  in  more  vigor- 
ous action  upon  the  Aletsch  glacier. 
Day  after  day  a  blue  sky  spanned  the 
earth,  and  night  after  night  the  stars 
glanced  down  from  an  unclouded  heaven.  There 
is  no  nobler  mountain  group  in  Switzerland  than 
that  seen  on  a  fine  day  from  the  middle  of  the 
Aletsch  glacier  looking  southward;  while  to  the 
north,  and  more  close  at  hand,  rise  the  Jungfrau 
and  other  summits  familiar  to  every  tourist  mIio 
has  crossed  the  Wengern  Alp.  The  love  of  being 
alone  amid  those  scenes  caused  me,  on  the  3rd  of 
August,  to  withdraw  from  all  society,  and  ascend 
the  glacier,  which  for  nearly  two  hours  was  al- 
most as  even  as  a  highway,  no  local  danger 
calling  away  the  attention  from  the  near  and 
distant  mountains.  The  ice  yielded  to  the  sun, 
rills  were  formed,  which  united  to  rivulets,  and 
these  again  coalesced  to  rapid  brooks,  which  ran 
with  a  pleasant  music  through  deep  channels 
cut  in  the  ice.  Sooner  or  later  these  brooks  were 
crossed  by  cracks;  into  these  cracks  the  water 
fell,  scooping  gradually  out  for  itself  a  vertical 
shaft,  the  resonance  of  which  raised  the  sound 
of  the  falling  water  to  the  dignity  of  thunder. 


Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau  67 

These  shafts  constitute  the  so-called  moulins  of 
the  glacier,  examples  of  which  are  shown  upon 
the  Mer  de  Glace  to  every  tourist  who  visits  the 
Jardin  from  Chamouni.  The  moulins  can  only 
form  where  the  glacier  is  not  much  riven,  as 
here  alone  the  rivulets  can  acquire  the  requisite 
volume  to  produce  a  moulin. 

x\fter  two  hours'  ascent,  the  ice  began  to  wear 
a  more  hostile  aspect,  and  long  stripes  of  last 
year's  snow  drawn  over  the  sullied  surface 
marked  the  lines  of  crevasses  now  partially  filled 
and  bridjjed  over.  For  a  time  this  snow  was 
consolidated,  and  I  crossed  numbers  of  the 
chasms,  sounding  in  each  case  before  trusting 
myself  to  its  tenacity.  But  as  I  ascended,  the 
width  and  depth  of  the  fissures  increased,  and 
the  fragility  of  the  snow  bridges  became  more 
conspicuous.  The  crevasses  yawned  here  and 
there  with  threatening  gloom,  while  along  their 
fringes  the  crystallizing  power  of  water  played 
the  most  fantastic  freaks.  Long;  lines  of  icicles 
dipped  into  the  darkness,  and  at  some  places  the 
liquefied  snow  had  refrozen  into  clusters  of 
plates,  ribbed  and  serrated  like  the  leaves  of 
ferns.  The  cases  in  which  the  snow  covering 
of  the  crevasses,  when  tested  by  the  axe,  yielded, 
became  gradually  more  numerous,  demanding 
commensurate  caution.  It  is  impossible  to  feel 
otherwise  than  earnest  in  such  scenes  as  this, 
with  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  oljjects  in 
nature  around  one,  with  the  sense  of  danger 
raising  the  feelings  at  times  to  the  level  of  awe. 

My    way    u[)ward    ])0('ame    more    and    more 


r>S  Ascent  of  the  Juxgfrau 

difficult,  and  circuit  after  circuit  had  to  be  made 
to  round  the  gaping  fissures.  There  is  a  passive 
cruelty  in  the  aspect  of  these  chasms  sufficient 
to  make  the  blood  run  cold.  Among  them  it  is 
not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  so  I  halted  in  the 
midst  of  them  and  swerved  bach  toward  the 
Faulberg.  But  instead  of  it  I  struck  the  lateral 
tributary  of  the  Aletsch,  which  runs  up  to  the 
Griinhorn  LUcke.  In  this  passage  I  was  more 
than  once  entangled  in  a  mesh  of  fissures;  but 
it  is  marvelous  what  steady,  cool  scrutiny  can 
accomplish  upon  the  ice,  and  how  often  difficul- 
ties of  apparently  the  gravest  kind  may  be  re- 
duced to  a  simple  form  by  skilful  examination. 
I  tried  to  get  along  the  rocks  to  the  Faulberg,  but 
after  investing  half  an  hour  in  the  attempt  I 
thought  it  prudent  to  retreat.  I  finally  reached 
the  Faulberg  by  the  glacier,  and  with  great 
comfort  consumed  my  bread  and  cheese  and 
emptied  my  goblet  in  the  shadow  of  its  caves. 
On  this  day  it  was  my  desire  to  get  near  the 
buttresses  of  the  Jungfrau,  and  to  see  what  pros- 
pect of  success  a  lonely  climber  would  have  in 
an  attempt  upon  the  mountain.  Such  an  at- 
tempt might  doubtless  be  made,  but  at  a  risk 
which  no  sane  man  would  willingly  incur. 

On  August  6th,  however,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
joining  Dr.  Hornby  and  Mr.  Philpotts,  who, 
with  Christian  Aimer  and  Christian  Lauener  for 
their  guides,  wished  to  ascend  the  Jungfrau. 
We  quitted  the  Eggischhorn  at  2:15  p.  m.,  and 
in  less  than  four  hours  reached  the  grottoes  of 
the  Faulberg.   A  nine  fire  was  soon  blazing,  a  pan 


Ascent  oi    the  Jungfrau  69 

of  water  soon  bubbling  sociably  over  the  flame, 
and  the  evening  meal  was  quickly  prepared  and 
disposed  of.  For  a  time  the  air  behind  the 
Jungfrau  and  ^Nlonk  was  exceedingly  dark  and 
threatening;  rain  was  streaming  down  upon 
Lauterbrunnen,  and  the  skirt  of  the  storm 
wrapped  the  summits  of  the  Jungfrau  and  the 
]\Ionk.  Southward,  however,  the  sky  was  clear, 
and  there  were  such  general  evidences  of  hope 
that  we  were  not  much  disheartened  by  the 
local  burst  of  ill-temper  displayed  by  the  atmos- 
phere to  the  north  of  us.  Like  a  gust  of  passion 
the  clouds  cleared  away,  and  before  we  went  to 
rest  all  w^as  sensibly  clear.  Still,  the  air  was  not 
transparent,  and  for  a  time  the  stars  twinkled 
through  it  with  a  feeble  ray.  There  was  no 
visible  turbidity,  but  a  something  which  cut  off 
half  the  stellar  brilliancy.  The  starlight,  how- 
ever, became  gradually  stronger,  not  on  account 
of  the  augmenting  darkness,  but  because  the  air 
became  clarified  as  the  night  advanced. 

Two  of  our  party  occupied  the  upper  cave,  and 
the  guides  took  possession  of  the  kitchen,  while  a 
third  lay  \n  the  little  grot  below.  Hips  and  ribs 
felt  throughout  the  night  the  pressure  of  the 
subjacent  rock.  A  single  blanket,  moreover, 
though  sufficient  to  keep  out  the  pain  of  cold, 
was  insufficient  to  induce  the  comfort  of  warmth; 
so  I  lay  awake  in  a  neutral  condition,  neither 
happy  nor  unhappy,  watching  the  stars  without 
emotion  as  they  apj^eared  in  succession  above 
the  mountain-heads. 

At  half-past  twelve  a  ruinl)iiiig  in  llic  kitchen 

Vol  IX. -6. 


70  AscKNT  OF  tut:  Jl  ngfrau 

showed  tlie  guides  to  be  alert,  and  soon  afterward 
Christian  Aimer  announced  that  tea  was  pre- 
pared. We  rose,  consumed  a  crust  and  basin 
each,  and  at  1 :1.5  a.m.,  being  perfectly  harnessed, 
we  dropped  down  upon  the  glacier.  The  cres- 
cent moon  was  in  the  skv,  but  for  a  long;  time  we 
had  to  walk  in  the  shadoM'  of  the  mountains, 
and  therefore  required  illumination.  The  bot- 
toms were  knocked  out  of  two  empty  bottles,  and 
each  of  these,  inverted,  formed  a  kind  of  lantern 
which  protected  from  the  wind  a  candle  stuck 
in  the  neck.  Aimer  went  first,  holding  his 
lantern  in  his  left  hand  and  his  axe  in  the  rio'ht, 
moving  cautiously  along  the  snow  which,  as  the 
residue  of  the  spring  avalanches,  fringed  the 
glacier.  At  times,  for  no  apparent  reason,  the 
leader  paused  and  struck  his  ice-axe  into  the 
snow.  Looking  right  or  left,  a  chasm  w^as  al- 
ways discovered  in  these  cases,  and  the  cautious 
guide  sounded  the  snow,  lest  the  fissure  should 
have  prolonged  itself  underneath  so  as  to  cross 
our  track.  A  tributary  glacier  joined  the  Aletsch 
from  our  ri^ht — a  lono;  corridor  filled  with  ice, 
and  covered  by  the  purest  snow.  Down  this 
valley  the  moonlight  streamed,  silvering  the 
surface  upon  which  it  fell. 

Here  we  cast  our  lamps  away,  and  roped  our- 
selves together.  To  our  left  a  second  long-  ice- 
corridor  stretched  up  to  the  Lotsch  saddle, 
which  hung  like  a  chain  between  the  opposing 
mountains.  In  fact,  at  this  point  four  noble 
ice-streams  form  a  junction,  and  flow  after- 
ward   in    the    common    channel    of    the    .Great 


Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau  71 

Aletsch  glacier.  Perfect  stillness  might  have 
been  expected  to  reign  upon  the  ice,  but  even  at 
that  early  hour  the  gurgle  of  subglacial  water 
made  itself  heard,  and  we  had  to  be  cautious  in 
some  places  lest  a  too  thin  crust  might  let  us  in. 
We  went  straight  up  the  glacier,  toward  the  col 
which  links  the  Monk  and  Jungfrau  together. 
The  surface  was  hard,  and  we  went  rapidly  and 
silently  over  the  snow.  There  is  an  earnestness 
of  feeling  on  such  occasions  which  subdues  the 
desire  for  conversation.  The  communion  we 
held  was  with  the  solemn  mountains  and  their 
background  of  dark  blue  sky. 

"-Der  Tag  brichtr'^  exclaimed  one  of  the  men. 
I  looked  toward  the  eastern  heaven,  and  could 
discover  no  illumination  which  hinted  at  the 
approach  of  day.  At  length  the  dawn  really 
appeared,  brightening  the  blue  of  the  eastern 
firmament;  at  first  it  was  a  mere  augmentation 
of  cold  light,  but  by  degrees  it  assumed  a  warmer 
tint.  The  long  uniform  incline  of  the  glacier 
being  passed,  we  reached  the  first  eminences 
of  snow  which  heave  like  waves  around  the  base 
of  the  Jungfrau.  This  is  the  region  of  beauty 
in  the  higher  Alps — beauty  pure  and  tender, 
out  of  which  emerges  the  savage  scenery  of 
the  peaks.  For  the  healthy  and  the  pure  in 
heart  these  higher  snow-fields  are  consecrated 
ground. 

The  snow  bosses  were  soon  broken  by  chasms 
deep  and  dark,  which  required  tortuous  winding 
on  our  part  to  get  round  them.     Having  sur- 

1.  The  day  breaks- 


7?  Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau 

mounted  a  steep  slope,  we  passed  to  some  red 
and  rotten  rocks,  which  required  care  on  the 
part  of  those  in  front  to  prevent  the  loose  and 
slippery  shingle  from  falling  upon  those  behind. 
We  gained  the  ridge  and  wound  along  it.  High 
snow  eminences  now  flanked  us  to  the  left,  and 
along  the  slope  over  which  we  passed  the  serace.'i 
had  shaken  their  frozen  bowlders.  We  tramped 
amid  the  knolls  of  the  fallen  avalanches  toward 
a  white  wall  which,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  barred 
further  progress.  To  our  right  were  noble 
chasms,  blue  and  profound,  torn  into  the  heart 
of  the  neve  by  the  slow  but  resistless  drag  of 
gravitv  on  the  descending  snows.  ^Meanwhile 
the  dawn  had  brightened  into  perfect  day,  and 
over  mountains  and  glaciers  the  gold  and  purple 
light  of  the  eastern  heaven  was  liberally  poured. 
We  had  already  caught  sight  of  the  peak  of  the 
Jungfrau,  rising  behind  an  eminence  and  pier- 
cing for  fifty  feet  or  so  the  rosy  dawn.  And  man}' 
another  peak  of  stately  altitude  caught  the 
blush,  while  the  shaded  slopes  were  all  of  a 
beautiful  azure,  being  illuminated  by  the  firma- 
ment alone.  A  large  segment  of  space  enclosed 
between  the  Monk  and  Trugberg  was  filled  like 
a  reservoir  with  purple  light.  The  world,  in 
fact,  seemed  to  worship,  and  the  flush  of  adora- 
tion was  on  every  mountain-head. 

Over  the  distant  Italian  Alps  rose  clouds  of 
the  most  fantastic  forms,  jutting  forth  into  the 
heavens  like  enormous  trees,  thrusting  out 
umbrageous  branches  which  bloomed  and  glis- 
tened in  the  solar  rays.  iVlong  the  whole  southern 


Ascent  of  the  Jungfeau  7S 

heaven  these  fantastic  masses  were  ranged  close 
together,  but  still  perfectly  isolated,  until  on 
reaching  a  certain  altitude  they  seemed  to  meet 
a  region  of  wind  which  blew  their  tops  like 
streamers  far  away  through  the  air.  Warmed 
and  tinted  by  the  morning  sun  those  unsubstan- 
tial masses  rivalled  in  grandeur  the  mountains 
themselves. 

The  final  peak  of  the  Jungfrau  is  now  before 
us,  and  apparently  so  near!  But  the  moun- 
taineer alone  knows  how  delusive  the  impression 
of  nearness  often  is  in  the  Alps.  To  reach  the 
slope  Avhich  led  up  to  the  peak  we  must  scale  or 
round  the  barrier  already  spoken  of.  From  the 
coping  and  the  ledges  of  this  beautiful  wall  hiuig 
long  stalactites  of  ice,  in  some  cases  like  in- 
verted spears,  with  their  sharp  points  free  in  air. 
In  other  cases,  the  icicles  which  descended  from 
the  overhanging  top  reached  a  projecting  lower 
ledge,  and  stretched  like  a  crystal  railing  from 
the  one  to  the  other.  To  the  right  of  this  barrier 
was  a  narrow  gangway,  from  which  the  snow 
had  not  yet  broken  away  so  as  to  form  a  vertical 
or  overhanging  wall.  It  was  one  of  those  acci- 
dents which  the  mountains  seldom  fail  to  furnish, 
and  on  the  existence  of  which  the  success  of  the 
climber  entirely  depends.  Up  this  steep  and 
narrow  gangway  we  cut  our  steps,  and  a  few 
minutes  placed  us  safely  at  the  bottom  of  the 
final  pyramid  of  the  Jungfrau. 

From  this  point  we  could  look  down  into  the 
abyss  of  the  Roththal,  and  certainly  its  wild 
environs   seemed    to    justify   the   uses   to   whicli 


74  Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau 

superstition  has  assigned  the  place.  For  here 
it  is  said  the  original  demons  of  the  mountains 
hold  their  orgies,  and  hither  the  spirits  of  the 
doubly-damned  among  men  are  sent  to  bear 
them  company.  The  slope  up  which  we  had 
now  to  climb  was  turned  toward  the  sun;  its 
aspect  was  a  southern  one,  and  its  snows  had 
been  melted  and  recongealed  to  hard  ice.  The 
axe  of  Aimer  rano-  against  the  obdurate  solid, 
and  its  fragments  whirred  past  us  with  a  weird- 
like soimd  to  the  abysses  below.  They  sug- 
gested the  fate  which  a  false  step  might  bring 
along  with  it.  It  is  a  practical  tribute  to  the 
strength  and  skill  of  the  Oberland  guides  that 
no  disaster  has  hitherto  occurred  upon  the  peak 
of  the  Jungfrau. 

The  work  upon  this  final  ice-slope  was  long 
and  heavy,  and  during  this  time  the  summit  ap- 
peared to  maintain  its  distance  above  us.  We 
at  length  cleared  the  ice,  and  gained  a  stretch 
of  snoAV  which  enabled  us  to  treble  our  upward 
speed.  Thence  to  some  loose  and  shingly  rocks, 
again  to  the  snow,  whence  a  sharp  edge  led 
directly  up  to  the  top.  The  exhilaration  of  suc- 
cess was  here  added  to  that  derived  from  physical 
nature.  On  the  top  fluttered  a  little  black  flag 
planted  by  our  most  recent  predecessors.  We 
reached  it  at  7:1.5  a.m.,  having  accomplished  the 
ascent  from  the  Faulberg  in  six  hours.  The 
snow  was  flattened  on  either  side  of  the  apex  so 
as  to  enable  us  all  to  stand  upon  it,  and  here  we 
stood  for  some  time,  with  all  the  magnificence 
of  the  Alps  unrolled  before  us. 


Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau 


75 


A  SHARP   EDGK  I.ED  TO  THE  TOP 


We  may  look  upon  these  raountains  again  and 
again  from  a  dozen  different  points  of  view,  a 
perennial  glory  surrounds  them  which  associates 
with  every  new  prospect  fresh  impressions.  I 
thought  I  had  scarcely  ever  seen  the  Alps  to 
greater  advantage.  Hardly  ever  was  their  maj- 
esty more  fully  revealed  or  more  overpowering. 
The  coloring  of  the  air  contributed  as  much  to 
the  effect  as  the  grandeur  of  the  masses  on  which 
that  coloring  fell.     A  calm  splendor  overspread 


76  ASCEXT    OF    THK    JlNCFUAr 

the  mountains,  softening'  the  harshness  of  tlic 
outHnes  without  detractino;  from  their  strength. 
But  half  the  interest  of  such  scenes  is  psycholog- 
ical; the  soul  takes  the  tint  of  surrounding 
nature,  and  in  its  turn  becomes  majestic. 

And  as  I  looked  over  this  wondrous  scene 
toward  Mont  Blanc,  the  Grand  Combin,  the 
Dent  Blanche,  the  Weisshorn,  the  Dom,  and  the 
thousand  lesser  peaks  which  seemed  to  join  in 
celebration  of  the  risen  day,  I  asked  myself,  as 
on  previous  occasions:  How  was  this  colossal 
work  performed  ?  Who  chiselled  these  mighty 
and  picturesque  masses  out  of  a  mere  protuber- 
ance of  the  earth  ?  And  the  answer  was  at  hand. 
Ever  young,  ever  mighty — with  the  vigor  of  a 
thousand  Avorlds  still  within  him — the  real 
sculptor  was  even  then  climljing  up  the  eastern 
sky.  It  was  he  who  raised  aloft  the  waters  which 
cut  out  these  ravines;  it  was  he  who  planted  the 
glaciers  on  the  mountain-slopes,  thus  giving 
gravity  a  plow^  to  open  out  the  valleys;  and  it  is 
he  who,  acting  through  the  ages,  will  finally  lay 
low  these  mighty  mountains,  rolling  them  gradu- 
ally  seaward — 

''Sowing  the  seeds  of  continents  to  be"; 

so  that  the  people  of  an  older  earth  may  see 
mould  spread  and  corn  wave  over  the  hidden 
rocks  which  at  this  moment  bear  the  w^eight  of 
the  Jungfrau. 


Abou  Ben  Adhem 


77 


THE   ANGEL   CAME   AGAIN 


ABOU  BEN  ADHEM 

LFAGH  HUNT 

Abou  Ben  Adhcni  (may  his  tribe  increase!) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 


78  Aboi    Bf.x  Ad  hem 

And  saw,  within  the  nioonhght  of  his  room, 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  Hly  in  bloom, 
An  anoel  writing;  in  a  book  of  o^old — 

Do  O 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold. 
And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
"What   writest   thou?"     The   vision   raised   its 

head. 
And  with  a  look  made  all  of  sw^eet  accord, 
Answer'd,  "The  names  of  those  W'ho  love  the 

Lord." 
"And  is  mine  one  ?  "  said  Aboii.     "  Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 
But  cheerily  still,  and  said,  "I  pray  thee,  then, 
Write  me  as  one  who  loves  his  fellowmen." 
The  angel  WTote  and  vanish'd.     The  next  night 
It  came  again  with  a  great  w^akening  light, 
And  show'd  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had 

bless'd. 
And  lo!     Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 


FLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE 


ANNA  McCALEB 


OLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE,  the 

youngest  daughter  of  Edward  Shore 
Nightingale,  was  born  in  1820  in 
Florence,  Italy,  and  was  named 
for  the  city.  Her  father  was  of 
the  family  of  Shores  of  Embley, 
Hants,  and  had  adopted  the  name 
of  Nightingale  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  his 
granduncle,  Peter  Nightingale,  from  whom  he 
had  inherited  the  estate  of  Lea  Hurst  in  Derby- 
shire. Mr.  Nightingale  was  a  man  of  wealth 
and  prominence.  He  had  ideas  far  in  advance 
of  his  age  in  regard  to  the  training  of  girls,  and 
his  daughters,  Frances  and  Florence,  were  in- 
structed in  music,  in  modern  languages,  in  the 
classics  and  in  mathematics.  Miss  Florence,  as 
she  was  always  called  throughout  the  country- 
side, was  a  special  favorite,  and  this  does  not 
seem  strange  when  one  learns  what  manner  of 
child  she  was.  The  desire  to  do  something  to 
help,  which  was  so  strong  in  her  all  her  life, 
showed  itself  very  early,  and  one  of  the  best- 
known  stories  of  her  childhood  relates  to  her 
first  attempt  at  nursing. 

According  to  this  story,  Florence  was  one  day 
riding  with  the  vicar,  a  friend  of  the  family,  who 
was  especially  fond  of  the  unselfish,  helpful 
child,  and  who  often  took  her  with  him  on  his 


70 


80  Florenck  Nightingale 

roll  lids.  They  came  upon  an  old  shepherd  of 
Mr.  Xiglitingalc's,  who  was  in  the  field  attempt- 
ing to  gather  his  flock  together,  but  with  no  great 
success. 

"Whv  Roger,"  cried  Florence,  "what  has 
become  of  Cap  ?  I  never  saw  you  tr\'  to  care  foi* 
the  sheep  without  him  before." 

"Indeed,  Miss  Florence,"  replied  the  man, 
"I'd  not  be  doing  without  him  now  if  I  could 
help  it,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  do  without 
him  always,  for  he  must  be  killed  to-night." 

"Oh,  Roger,"  cried  the  child,  "what  can  dear, 
good  Cap  have  done  that  he  should  have  to  die  ?'' 

"Nothing,  indeed,  Miss,  but  he  is  of  no  use 
to  me  now,  for  some  bad  boys  have  broken  his 
leg  with  stones,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  keep  him 
and  feed  him  when  he  is  no  help  to  me." 

"But  how  you  will  miss  him,"  said  Florence. 
"He  has  always  lived  right  in  the  house  W'ith  you 
like  a  person." 

There  were  actually  tears  in  the  man's  eyes  as 
he  nodded  in  reply  to  her;  and  partly  because  she 
felt  sorry  for  him,  and  partly  because  she  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  the  faithful  old  dog 
suffering  and  being  killed,  she  besought  the 
\icar  to  go  with  her  to  Roger's  house  to  see 
whether  something  could  not  be  done  for  Cap. 

"I  really  don't  believe,"  said  the  vicar  on  the 
way,  "that  Cap's  leg  can  be  broken.  It  would 
have  to  be  a  verv  bio;  stone  and  a  verv  strong  bov 
that  could  break  the  leg  of  a  great  dog  like  Cap." 

Sure  enough,  when  they  reached  the  house, 
they  found  that  the  dog's  leg  was  badly  swollen, 


FXORENCE   NIGUTLNGALE 


Florence  Nightingale  81 

and  evidently  very  painful,  but  was  not  broken; 
and  though  he  had  barked  furiously  at  their 
entrance  into  the  cabin,  and  at  first  refused  to 
allow  them  to  come  near  him,  he  finally  seemed 
to  understand  that  they  wanted  to  help  him,  and 
his  brown  eyes  looked  gratefully  at  Florence  as 
she  knelt  beside  him  and  stroked  his  head. 

"The  first  thing  to  do,"  said  the  vicar,  "is  to 
bathe  the  poor  leg  with  hot  water." 

Instantly  Florence  was  up  and  out  of  the 
liouse,  begging  at  a  neighboring  hut  for  some- 
thing to  start  a  fire  with.  Returning,  she 
kindled  a  fire  and  put  the  water  on  to  boil,  and 
then  she  again  ran  out  of  doors  in  search  of  some 
flannel  to  use  in  bandaging  Cap's  leg.  A  child's 
petticoat  was  hung  out  to  dry  before  one  of  the 
neighboring  huts,  and  this  Florence  snatched 
and  tore  into  strips.  For  a  long  time  she  re- 
mained with  the  dog,  wringing  the  cloths  out  of 
the  hot  water,  and  applying  them  to  the  swollen 
leg.  Roger,  when  he  returned  that  evening, 
carrying  a  cord  with  which  to  hang  poor  Cap, 
was  delighted  when  he  was  told  that  the  sacrifice 
of  the  dog's  life  would  not  be  necessary.  In  the 
morning  Florence  returned,  bringing  with  her 
two  petticoats  to  replace  the  one  which  she  had 
torn  up,  and  she  again  remained  with  Cap,  doing 
what  she  could  to  make  him  comfortable. 

The  tendencies  which  this  circumstance 
showed  in  the  child  were  noticeable  all  her  life. 
Not  only  did  she  desire  to  help  people  and  to 
relieve  suft'ering,  but  she  usually  managed  to 
find  some  wav  to  do  it.      She  was  not  a  senti- 


N.?  Flohi;\('i    Nightingale 

inentalist  who  sat  and  wept  over  people's  illness 
and  miseries;  she  was  a  praetical  person  who 
sought  constantly  the  means  of  remedying  such 
illness  and  miseries. 

As  she  grew  older,  ]\Iiss  Nightingale  became 
convinced  that  the  "art,"  as  she  called  it,  of 
nursing  was  one  which  was  painfully  neglected. 
She  felt  that  nurses  should  have  as  strict  and  as 
careful  training  as  shoidd  doctors,  and  that  they 
should  be  women  of  intelligence  and  of  good 
character. 

To  find  out  just  what  conditions  were,  she 
made  a  tour  of  inspection  through  many  hospi- 
tals in  England  and  in  France.  The  latter 
country  she  found  to  be  much  in  advance  of 
Eno;land,  for  in  France  nursing;  was  almost 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Catholic  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  who  were  carefully  trained,  and  who 
were,  many  of  them,  women  of  great  refinement 
and  intelligence.  Why,  Miss  Nightingale  won- 
dered, could  there  not  be  schools  and  hospitals 
where  Protestant  women  could  be  trained  as 
were  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  ? 

There  was,  indeed,  one  such  place,  which  was 
at  this  time  being  much  discussed  on  the  Conti- 
nent and  even  in  England.  This  was  the  in- 
stitution conducted  at  Kaiserwerth,  in  Germany, 
by  Pastor  Fliedner,  for  the  training  of  deacon- 
esses, or  district  nurses.  These  nurses,  trained 
and  given  experience  in  the  hospital  at  Kaiser- 
werth, were  sent  out  to  care  for  the  sick  poor 
free  of  charge,  and  to  teach  them  some  of  the 
simplest    rules    of   health.     To    this    institution 


Florence  Nightingale  83 

Miss  Nightingale  determined  to  go,  and  her 
decision  cansed  a  stir  among  those  wlio  knew  her 
in  England.  It  was  all  right,  they  declared,  for 
German  peasants  to  be  trained  as  nurses — 
})easants  were  expected  to  wait  upon  other 
people;  but  for  an  English  lady  of  wealth  and 
refinement  to  place  herself  in  a  position  where 
she  might  be  called  upon  to  serve  those  below 
her  in  station — the  thing  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  However,  ]Miss  Nightingale  had  been  think- 
ing of  it  long  and  seriously,  and  nothing  that  was 
said  could  alter  her  determination.  She  went  to 
Kaiserwerth  in  1849,  causing  a  flutter  among 
the  blue-gowned,  white-capped  peasant  girls 
there.  Soon  the  heads  of  the  institution  came 
to  depend  upon  lier  for  lielp  such  as  the  other 
students  could  not  render,  and  her  companions 
grew  to  love  her  very  tenderly.  A  friend  of 
Miss  Nightingale's  who  visited  Kaiserwerth, 
years  afterward  found  that  the  "English  Friiu- 
lein"  was  still  remembered  and  loved. 

Miss  Nightingale's  l)ody  was  by  no  means  as 
strong  as  her  spirit,  and  the  training  at  Kaiser- 
werth told  upon  her,  so  that  she  was  obliged  to 
remain  at  Lea  Hurst  resting  for  some  time  after 
her  return  from  Germany.  The  first  patient 
she  had  after  her  months  of  resting  was  not  a 
person,  but  an  institution.  The  Harley  Street 
Home  for  Sick  Governesses  in  London,  a  most 
worthy  charity,  was,  owing  to  mismanagement, 
in  a  verv  bad  state.  Miss  Niohtinjj-ale,  whose 
organizing  abilit}'  was  of  the  highest  order, 
undertook  to  place  the  institution   on  a  better 


84  FloRKNCK    XlCillTINGALK 

footinj:".  and  for  months  she  scarcelv  left  the 
Home  or  saw  her  friends,  so  arduous  were  her 
labors.  In  building  up  the  shattered  finances, 
i»she  did  not  spare  her  own  fortune,  and  when,  at 
the  end  of  some  months,  she  gave  up  her  patient 
as  cured,  the  charity  was  one  of  which  London 
could  well  be  proud. 

All  that  Miss  Nightingale  had  done  hitherto 
had  been  but  a  preparation  for  the  great  work 
which  she  was  soon  to  be  called  upon  to  perform. 
This  work  was  not  of  her  own  choosing;  indeed. 
it  was  of  no  one's  choosing. 

In  18,54  the  Crimean  War  broke  out  between 
England  and  Russia,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
people  in  England  were  reading  in  The  Times 
descriptions  of  the  suffering  caused  the  English 
soldiers  by  the  defective  hospital  arrangements. 
There  was  a  hospital  at  Scutari,  a  port  of  the 
Turkish  capital;  there  was  a  general  hospital 
and  a  collection  of  hut  hospitals  at  Balaklava; 
and  there  was  what  might  have  been,  with  good 
management,  a  sufRciency  of  hospital  supplies 
sent  out  by  the  British  government.  But  for 
some  reason,  never  fully  understood,  no  com- 
forts were  provided  for  well  soldiers  and  no 
effective  help  was  given  the  sick  and  wounded. 

\V.  II.  Russell  in  TJie  Times  wrote:  "It  is 
now  pouring  rain,  the  skies  are  black  as  ink,  the 
wind  is  howUng  over  the  staggering  tents,  the 
trenches  are  turned  into  dykes;  in  the  tents  the 
water  is  sometimes  a  foot  deep;  our  men  have 
not  either  warm  or  waterproof  clothing;  they 
are  out  for  twelve  hours  at  a  time  in  the  trenches; 


Florence  Nightingale  85 

thev  are  plunged  into  the  inevitable  miseries  of  a 
winter  campaign,  and  not  a  soul  seems  to  care 
for  their  comfort,  or  even  for  their  lives.  These 
are  hard  truths,  but  the  people  of  England  must 
hear  them.  They  must  know  that  the  wretched 
beo-jjar  who  wanders  about  the  streets  of  London 
in  the  rain,  leads  the  life  of  a  prince  compared 
with  the  British  soldiers  who  are  fighting  out 
here  for  their  country." 

x\nd  again  the  same  correspondent  wrote  in 
the  same  paper:  "The  commonest  accessories 
of  a  hospital  are  wanting;  there  is  not  the  least 
attention  paid  to  decency  or  clean  linen;  the 
stench  is  appalling;  the  fetid  air  can  hardly 
struggle  out  to  taint  the  atmosphere,  save  through 
the  chinks  in  the  walls  and  roofs;  and  for  all  I  can 
observe,  these  men  die  without  the  least  efi'ort 
being  made  to  save  them.  There  they  lie, 
just  as  thev  were  let  oentlv  down  on  the  o^round 
by  the  poor  fellows,  their  comrades,  who  brought 
them  on  their  backs  from  the  camp  with  the 
greatest  tenderness,  but  who  were  not  allowed 
to  remain  with  them.  The  sick  appear  to  be 
tended  by  the  sick,  and  the  dying  by  the  dying." 

These  facts  had  the  effect  which  might  have 
been  expected.  Letters,  expostulations,  sup- 
plies, offers  of  assistance  ])egan  to  pour  in  on 
the  War  Office  in  a  flood.  No  ofi'ers  of  hospital 
supplies  were  refused,  and  l)efore  long  vast 
quantities  were  on  their  way  to  the  East.  But  it 
seemed  as  if  evervthin""  were  destined  to  <i:o 
wrong;  part  of  the  supj)lies  were  lost,  part  were 
landed  at  ^  arna  and  were  allowed  to  lie  there 

VoL  IX.-7. 


86  Florence  Nightingale 

and  rot,  far  from  the  ])la(e  where  men  were 
starving  and  freezing  and  dying  for  the  kick  of 
them. 

]Many  nnrses  vokmteered  their  services,  but 
the  head  of  the  War  Dejiartment,  Mr.  Sidney 
Herbert,  feU  that  he  coukl  not  accept  their  offers. 
They  were,  he  knew,  Httle  better  than  the  un- 
trained orderHes  who  were  waiting  on  the 
soldiers  in  the  hospitals,  and  they  were  for  the 
most  part  women  of  such  character  that  he  felt 
they  would  do  more  harm  than  good.  Some- 
thing must  be  done,  and  he  felt  that  that  some- 
thing must  be  done  by  women.  At  last,  with 
many  misgivings,  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Miss 
Nig-htino-ale,  lavino;  the  situation  fairlv  before 
her,  and  concluding  with  the  statement  that 
there  was  but  one  woman  whom  he  knew  of  in 
England  who  was  capable  of  bringing  order  out 
of  such  chaos — and  that  that  woman  was  herself. 

This  letter  was  written  on  October  15,  1854, 
and  on  that  same  day,  strangely  enough.  Miss 
Nightingale  at  Lea  Hurst  was  writing  to  Mr. 
Herbert,  ofl'ering  just  such  service  as  he  had 
asked  of  her.  Plans  were  rapidly  made,  and 
within  eight  days  Miss  Nightingale  was  ready  to 
start  for  Scutari  with  a  band  of  .thirty-eight 
nurses.  The  selection  of  these  nurses  was  by  no 
means  an  easy  task,  but  both  Miss  Nightingale 
and  Mr.  Herbert  were  well  satisfied  with  the 
fourteen  sisters  from  the  established  church,  the 
ten  Roman  Catholic  Sisters  of  Charity  and  the 
fourteen  hospital  nurses  who  were  finally  chosen. 
iVIiss  Nightingale  had  insisted,  as  of  course  it 


Florence  Nightingale  87 

was  her  right  to  do,  that  she  be  given  absolute 
control  over  this  band  of  workers,  and  the  War 
Department  gave  her  official  authority  to  pro- 
ceed largely  according  to  her  own  judgment  in 
all  matters  connected  with  the  hospital  at  Scutari. 

Much  criticism  was  heard  in  England  of  this 
sending  out  of  women  nurses  to  a  military 
hospital.  Many  considered  it  improper;  many 
objected  because  a  part  of  the  nurses  were 
Catholic.  The  medical  staff  of  the  army  were 
by  no  means  unanimous  in  their  approval;  they 
felt  that  so  many  women  could  be  nothing  but 
an  extra  care,  and  that  they  would,  besides, 
interfere  with  the  strictness  of  military  rule.  But 
the  Lady-in-chief,  as  she  was  called,  paid  no 
heed  to  criticism,  but  went  on  her  way  with 
her  **angel  band,"  and  arrived  at  Scutari  No- 
vember oth. 

Appalling  indeed  were  the  scenes  that  greeted 
her.  The  Barrack  Hospital,  as  it  was  called, 
was  a  great  building  loaned  to  the  British  by  the 
Turkish  government.  It  was  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  long  on  each  side,  and  had  a  tower  at  each 
corner.  Along  the  corridors  of  each  floor  were 
stretched  the  rows  of  sick  and  wounded  soldiers, 
side  by  side  on  their  filthy  mattresses,  which 
were  placed  end  to  end,  and  so  close  together  that 
there  was  scarcely  room  for  two  people  to  pass 
each  other  in  the  space  between.  Thus  there 
were  actually  miles  of  these  soldiers,  lying  in  a 
condition  difficult  to  describe.  "The  men," 
wrote  one  historian  of  the  war,  "lay  in  their 
uniforms,  stiff  with  gore  and  covered  with  tilth 


88  Florknce  Nightingale 

to  a  degree  and  of  a  kind  no  one  could  write 
about."  And  witliin  a  day  or  two,  hundreds  of 
new  patients,  tlie  wounded  of  the  Battle  of 
Inkerman,  were  being  borne  into  this  crowded 
hospital.  The  poor  fellows  were  often  in  a 
desperate  condition  when  they  arrived,  for 
among  all  the  awful  and  shameful  things  con- 
nected with  this  war,  few  things  were  worse  than 
the  manner  in  which  the  sick  and  wounded  were 
treated  on  the  transports  which  carried  them 
from  the  "Front"  to  the  hospital  at  Scutari. 
Even  in  the  dead  of  winter  they  lay  between 
decks  without  any  bedding,  and  often  without  a 
blanket  for  covering.  There  was  food  on  board, 
but  it  was  of  a  character  utterly  unfit  for  in- 
valids; and  there  was  water,  but  it  was  often  so 
buried  under  ammunition  and  baggage  that  it 
could  not  be  got  at.  Men  actually  died  on 
these  transports  of  w^ant  of  food  and  drink. 

These  conditions  on  shipboard  Florence  Night- 
ingale could  not  touch,  but  with  the  hospital 
conditions  she  could  and  did  deal.  As  there 
were  thousands  of  sufferers,  it  was  not  possible 
that  she  should  start  out  from  bed  to  bed  and 
nurse  each  one;  her  task  was  the  much  more 
difficult  one  of  organization,  of  management;  and 
it  was  for  her  genius  for  just  such  work  that  she 
had  been  selected.  The  first  matter  to  be  dealt 
with  was  that  of  cleanliness  and  sanitation; 
nothing  could  be  accomplished  while  the  men 
lay  in  such  a  condition.  And  so  the  nurses 
were  immediately  set  to  work  ripping  up, 
renovating,    replacing    the    soldiers'    mattresses. 


Florence  Nightingale  89 

Then  the  Lady-in-chief  turned  her  attention  to 
the  matter  of  food.  Nothing  fitted  to  the  needs 
of  the  patients  had  ever  been  provided — the}'  liad 
Httle  more  than  the  salt  pork  and  biscuit  whicli 
the  soldiers  in  action  ate.  Often  when  wine  or 
any  other  delicacy  was  provided  for  the  sick,  the 
orderlies  in  attendance  upon  them,  themselves 
half  starved,  appropriated  it.  A  kitchen  was 
immediately  set  up  under  Miss  Nightingale's 
supervision,  and  such  things  as  the  soldiers  had 
not  dreamed  of  were  provided  for  them.  One 
man  wrote  home,  in  delighted  surprise,  describ- 
ing his  day's  rations.  When  a  bowl  of  hot  gruel 
was  brought  to  him  he  thought  "I'd  best  take 
it  all,  for  it's  all  I'll  get,- and  far  l)etter  than  I've 
been  having;"  but  later,  he  says, "another  nurse 
came  with  a  cup  of  chicken  broth — 'and  wouldn't 
I  drink  it  for  her.^'  And  then,  in  the  afternoon 
came  another  'begging  me  to  eat  just  a  little 
jelly.'"  The  supplies  which  Miss  Nightingale 
had  brought  with  her  were  of  inestimable  value 
in  eking  out  what  was  provided  by  the  govern- 
ment. Later  on  a  French  cook,  M.  Sayer,  a 
great  admirer  of  ]\Iiss  Nightingale,  came  out  to 
Scutari  and  took  charge  of  tlie  kitchen  there. 

Another  thing  that  hampered  the  nurses  in 
their  work  was  the  inability  to  get  clean  clothing 
or  bedding,  and  as  soon  as  the  kitchens  were  in 
working  order.  Miss  Nightingale  began  to  in- 
c;uire  into  the  laundry  arrangements.  The 
washing  had  been  done  by  contract — or  rather, 
it  was  supposed  to  be  done  by  contract,  and  in 
reality   was    not    done   at   all.     A   large   empty 


90  Florence  Nightingale 

buildino;  was  secured,  and  a  laundry  was  set  up 
in  it.  many  of  the  soldiers'  widows  and  wives 
working  in  it  and  receiving  fair  pay  for  their 
services.  The  clothes  and  bedding  of  those  who 
were  suffering  from  infectious  diseases  were 
separated  from  those  of  the  wounded  soldiers — a 
thing  that  had  not  been  done  before.  Another 
difficulty  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  soldiers  had  no 
changes  of  clothing,  but  this  Miss  Nightingale 
remedied  by  buying  for  them  shirts  with  her  own 
money.  In  fact,  she  used  her  own  fortune 
throughout  most  freely. 

The  early  days  at  Scutari  were  crowded  days 
for  Miss  Niglitingale  and  her  helpers.  Some- 
times, when  new  patients  were  being  brought  by 
hundreds  from  the  l^attlefield,  the  Lady-in-chief 
stood  for  twenty  hours  dealing  out  supplies  and 
issuing  instructions.  Much  of  the  time  she  was 
hampered  in  her  work  by  the  difficulty  of  secur- 
ing supplies.  These  were,  in  many  cases,  at 
liand,  for  the  people  of  England,  roused  by  the 
published  accounts  of  conditions  in  the  East, 
had  been  sending  ship-loads  of  clothing,  hospital 
accessories  and  food;  but  the  "red  tape"  often 
rendered  these  stores  practically  useless  by 
making  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  lay  hands 
upon  them  when  they  were  most  needed. 
Sometimes  Miss  Nightingale,  on  her  own  author- 
ity, dispensed  with  official  inspection  and  ap- 
proval, promising  to  bear  all  the  blame  if  those 
in  charge  of  the  stores  were  held  to  account. 

But  by  no  means  all  of  Miss  Nightingale's 
work  was  of  this  character.     She  spent  much  of 


Florence  Nightingale 


91 


TFIE    LADY    WITH    TIIK    LAMP 


her  time,  after  the  first  rusli  was  over,  in  looking 
after  the  most  dangerous  eases,  showing  abso- 
lutely no  feai'  of  fcvei'  or  eontagion.  One 
writer  in  77/ c  T ivies  said:  "Wherever  there  is 
disease  in  its  most  dangerous  form,  and  the 
hand   of  the  spoiler  distressingly  nigh,  there  is 


92  Florence  Nightingale 

this  incomparable  woman  sure  to  be  seen.  Her 
benignant  presence  is  an  influence  for  good 
comfort  even  among  the  struggles  of  expiring 
nature.  She  is  a  ministering  angel  without  any 
exaggeration  in  these  hospitals,  and  as  her 
slender  form  glides  quietly  along  each  corridor, 
every  poor  fellow's  face  softens  with  gratitude 
at  the  sight  of  her.  ^Yhen  all  the  medical 
ofl&cers  have  retired  for  the  night,  and  silence  and 
darkness  have  settled  down  upon  those  miles  of 
prostrate  sick,  she  may  be  observed  alone,  with 
a  little  lamp  in  her  hands,  making  her  solitary 
rounds." 

It  was  this  picture  of  the  Lady-in-cliief  moving 
softly  about  through  the  shadows  with  her  lamp 
shaded  by  her  hand,  which  gave  rise  to  Long- 
fellow's poem  that  bestowed  upon  her  the  popu- 
lar name  of  "the  lady  with  the  lamp." 

"Thus  thought  I,  as  by  night  I  read 
Of  the  great  army  of  the  dead. 
The  trenches  cold  and  damp. 
The  starved  and  frozen  camp, — 

"The  wounded  from  the  battle-plain. 
In  dreary  hospitals  of  pain, 
The  cheerless  corridors. 
The  cold  and  stony  floors. 

"Lo!  in  that  home  of  misery 
A  lady  with  a  lamp  I  see 

Pass  through  the  glimmering  gloom, 
And  flit  from  room  to  room. 


Florfaxe  Nightingale  93 

"And  slow,  as  in  a  dream  of  bliss. 
The  speechless  sufferer  turns  to  kiss 
Her  shadow,  as  it  falls 
Upon  the  darkening  walls. 

"A  Lady  with  a  Lamp  shall  stand 
In  the  great  history  of  the  land, 
A  noble  type  of  good, 
Heroic  womanhood." 

Nor  did  Longfellow  need  to  make  use  of 
poetic  license  in  speaking  of  the  soldiers  as  kiss- 
ing her  shadow.  One  poor  convalescent  said, 
"To  see  her  pass  was  happiness.  As  she  passed 
the  beds  she  would  nod  to  one  and  smile  at 
many  more;  but  she  could  not  do  it  to  all. 
you  know.  We  lay  there  by  hundreds;  but  we 
could  kiss  her  shadow  as  it  fell,  and  lay  our  heads 
upon  the  pillow  again  content."  This  affection- 
ate admiration  was  felt  ])y  all  the  soldiers;  and 
these  men,  many  of  them  of  the  roughest, 
coarsest  type,  were  softened  by  the  a})pearance 
amonc:  them  of  this  refined  and  delicate  woman. 
"Before  she  came,"  wrote  one  soldier,  "tlioro 
was  such  cussing  and  swearing  as  you  never 
heard;  but  after  she  came,  it  was  as  holy  as  a 
church." 

Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Miss  Nightingale 
had  not,  bv  all  her  efforts  and  all  her  success, 
silenced  the  voice  of  criticism  in  England. 
There  were  those  who  said,  and  said  openly,  that 
she  was  doing  the  soldiers  more  harm  than  good  I 
The  onlv  reason  tlicv  could  alleire  for  such  state- 


94  Florencjo  Nightingale 

inriits  was  tlio  old  one  of  the  Catliolic  sisters; 
Miss  Nii'litiiigale  must  be  a  Catliolic,  they  said, 
or  slie  ^vould  never  have  chosen  Sisters  of  Mercy 
to  help  her.  And  what  harm  might  she  not  work, 
when  she  had  softened  the  soldiers  by  her 
ministration,  by  drawing  them  from  the  estab- 
lished to  the  Roman  Church  ?  Her  friends 
indignantly  denied  such  charges,  and  the  denial 
was  taken  up  by  tTie  press.  Indeed,  as  time 
went  on  and  the  work  of  the  heroic  women  at 
Scutari  became  better  known,  no  one  dared  speak 
a  word  against  them,  and  all  were  anxious  to 
have  a  part  in  their  glorious  work.  From 
queen  to  peasant,  English  women  w^ere  scraping 
lint,  making  bandages,  knitting  socks — prepar- 
ing and  collecting  anything  which  might  be  of 
use  in  the  hospitals. 

And  truly,  help  was  needed  there.  The 
cleanliness,  the  care,  the  organization  had  ac- 
complished much;  the  death  rate  had  been  cut 
down  from  over  sixty  to  one  per  cent.  But  a 
cholera  scourge  made  matters  w^orse  again, 
filling  the  hospitals,  and  making  days  and  nights 
horrible  for  the  devoted  nurses.  Almost  more 
terrible  than  the  cholera  scourge  in  its  effects 
Avas  the  Russian  w-inter.  The  soldiers  at  the 
"Front"  had  nothing  but  the  thin  linen  suits 
in  which  they  had  set  out  in  the  summer;  and 
the  suffering  from  frost-bite  was  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Absolutely  gruesome  are  the  accounts 
of  the  state  of  the  British  soldiers,  who  w^ere 
obliged  to  be  in  action  during  the  day  and  to 
lie    without    shelter    at    night,    frozen    to    their 


Florence  Nightingale  95 

clothes  and  to  their  neighbors.  A  continual 
stream  of  patients  suffering  from  cholera  and 
from  frost-bite  was  pouring  into  the  hospital  at 
Scutari,  but  while  the  nurses  blenched  and 
shuddered,  they  worked  on  day  and  night, 
themselves  suffering  privations  innumerable,  yet 
without  complaint.  The  hardest  thing  they  had 
to  endure  was  the  pleas  of  the  poor  soldiers  for 
warmer  clothing,  witli  wiiich  they  could  not  be 
supplied.  "Whenever  a  man  opens  his  mouth 
with  'Please  ma'am,  I  want  to  speak  to  you,'" 
wrote  one  nurse,  "my  heart  sinks,  for  I  feel  sure 
it  will  end  in  flannel  shirts."  A  reenforceinent 
of  fifty  nurses  was  sent  to  Miss  Nightingale's 
aid,  and  it  is  not  reported  that  any  were  turned 
away  because  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  do. 
Throuo'hout  the  winter  of  1854-1855,  Miss 
Nightingale  remained  at  Scutari,  but  in  May  of 
1855  she  set  sail  for  the  Crimea  for  a  visit  of 
inspection  to  the  hospitals  there.  Her  arrival 
caused  a  stir — there  were  but  four  ladies  in  the 
Crimea,  besides  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  who  were 
not  seen  publicly.  And  when  it  was  found  out 
who  she  was,  there  were  shoutings  and  ovations; 
and  some  of  the  soldiers,  whom  Miss  Nightingale 
had  nursed  back  to  health  at  Scutari,  wept  with 
joy  at  seeing  her  again.  She  visited  the  General 
Hospital  and  the  collection  of  hut  hospitals  on 
the  lieight  above  Balaklava,  and  gave  advice  as 
to  the  management  of  them.  But  the  delight 
of  the  .soldiers  at  the  sight  of  the  "Soldiers' 
Friend"  was  soon  changed  to  mourning,  for 
Florence  Nightingale  conlractcd   (^rimran   fever 


^6  Florexcp:  Nightingale 

in  its  worst  form.  A  eiy  gently  she  was  carried 
up  to  a  hut  hospital,  and  very  tenderly  she  was 
cared  for.  Some  time  before  a  correspondent  of 
The  Times  had  written,  ''The  popular  instinct 
was  not  mistaken  which,  when  she  set  out  from 
England  on  the  mission  of  mercy,  hailed  her  as  a 
heroine;  I  trust  she  may  not  earn  her  title  to  a 
higher  though  sadder  appellation."  The  right 
to  this  title  of  martyr,  people  feared  she  was 
about  to  earn;  but  orraduallv  she  grew  better, 
and  the  joyous  news  spread  rapidly  to  Scutari 
and  to  England.  In  her  writings  afterw^ard  she 
declared  that  she  dated  her  recovery  from  the 
receipt  of  a  little  bunch  of  flowers  which  a  friend 
sent  to  her;  and  she  always  advocated  flowers 
in  the  sickroom,  despite  what  many  other  nurses 
say  about  them.  When  she  recovered,  she  w^as 
ordered  home  to  England,  but  she  refused  to  obey 
orders,  returning  to  Scutari  instead.  She  twice 
later  visited  the  Crimea,  to  superintend  the  carry- 
ing out  of  hospital  reforms  which  she  herself 
had  suggested. 

On  September  8,  1855,  Sebastopol  was  taken; 
and  only  then,  w^hen  the  army  was  withdrawn 
from  the  Crimea,  did  Miss  Nightingale  consent 
to  leave  her  post.  Before  setting  out  she  had 
placed  above  Balaklava,  at  her  own  expense,  a 
monument  to  the  soldiers  who  had  fallen  in  the 
war.  This  was  in  the  form  of  a  huge  white 
marble  cross,  twenty  feet  high.  She  guessed, 
what  was  indeed  the  truth,  that  a  reception  was 
being  prepared  for  her  in  England,  and  w^ith 
her  intense  hatred  of  pulilicity  she  determined 


Florence  Nightingale  97 

to  avoid  it.  Under  an  assumed  name,  therefore, 
slie  journeyed  quietly  to  England,  and  not  until 
she  was  in  Lea  Hurst  did  the  people  know  that 
she  had  reached  England.  The  public  was  de- 
sirous of  showing  appreciation  of  her  work,  and 
Mr.  Herbert  was  asked  what  form  such  a  testi- 
mony of  appreciation  ought  to  take.  Knowing 
Miss  Nightingale  well,  he  declared  that  nothing- 
could  please  her  like  the  founding  of  a  hospital 
and  nurses'  training  school.  The  work  was 
undertaken  with  enthusiasm,  and  within  a  com- 
paratively short  time  almost  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars  was  raised.  Madame 
Goldschmidt  (Jenny  Lind)  gave  a  concert  of 
which  the  proceeds  were  almost  ten  thousand 
dollars,  all  of  which  was  given  to  the  fund. 

Queen  Victoria  had  all  along  felt  the  greatest 
interest  in  Miss  Nightingale's  work,  and  on  the 
return  home  of  the  Lady-in-chief,  the  queen 
presented  her  with  a  beautiful  and  costly  jewel. 
This  was  a  shield  upon  which  was  a  cross  of 
red  enamel,  bearing  in  diamonds  the  letters 
V.  R.,  and  a  crown,  and  surrounded  by  a  black 
enamel  band  on  which  were  the  words  "Blessed 
are  the  merciful." 

After  her  return  to  England,  Miss  Nightingale 
was  practically  an  invalid  and  a  recluse.  She 
was  not  even  able  to  undertake,  as  she  would 
have  so  liked  to  do,  the  headship  of  the  hos])itaI 
which  was  founded  and  named  for  hei".  But, 
shut  up  in  her  room,  she  was  by  no  means  idle. 
She  was  constantly  consulted  by  the  War  De- 
partment on  all  ])lans  for  securing  better  sanitary 


98  Florence  Nightingale 

londitions  in  the  army,  and  her  room  oftec, 
looked  like  an  annex  of  the  War  Department, 
with  its  plans  and  diagrams.  Then  too,  no 
new  hospital  was  bnilt  in  England  nntil  Miss 
Nightingale  had  j)assed  her  opinion  on  the 
plans,  and  committees  from  other  countries 
consulted  her  on  like  subjects.  During  the 
Civil  War  in  the  United  States,  her  advice  on 
questions  connected  with  nursing  and  hospital 
arrangements  was  of  inestimable  value,  as  it 
was  some  years  later  in  the  Franco-German  War. 
She  took,  as  was  natural,  the  greatest  interest 
when  the  Red  Cross  Society  was  proposed, 
and  was  active  in  securing  its  foundation. 

In  her  writings,  too,  she  gave  to  the  world  the 
benefits  of  her  experience.  Her  "Notes  on 
Hospitals  "  have  been  of  immense  service  to  those 
engaged  in  building  hospitals,  while  her  "Notes 
on  Nursing"  contain  advice  which  is  as  valuable 
to-day  as  when  it  was  first  given.  In  a  time  when 
people  feared  to  let  out-of-door  air  into  their 
bedrooms,  she  pleaded  for  open  bed  curtains  and 
windows,  and  plenty  of  fresh  air. 

On  the  general  subject  of  nursing,  she  gave 
her  views  distinctly.  "It  seems  a  commonly 
received  idea  among  men,"  she  wrote,  "and 
even  among  women  themselves,  that  it  requires 
nothing  but  a  disappointment  in  love,  the  want 
of  an  object,  a  general  disgust,  or  an  incapacity 
for  other  things,  to  turn  a  woman  into  a  good 
nurse.  This  reminds  one  of  the  parish  where  a 
stupid  old  man  was  set  to  be  schoolmaster  be- 
cause  he   was   'past   keeping   the   pigs.'"     She 


Florence  Nightingale 


99 


contended  that  nursino:,  "the  finest  of  the  fine 
arts,"  demanded  not  only  the  best,  but  the  best- 
trained  women,  and  she  has  certainly  done  more 
than  any  other  one  person  to  bring  to  pass  that 
in  which  she  so  firmly  believed. 

Some  time  after  the  close  of  the  Crimean  War, 
a  banquet  was  given  to  all  the  officers,  militarv 
and  naval,  who  had  taken  part  in  that  struggle, 
and  while  thev  were  assembled  it  was  suoo-ested 
that  each  one  write  on  a  paper  the  name  of  the 
person  that  he  thought  would  be  longest  remem- 
bered in  connection  with  the  war.  ^Mien  the 
papers  were  opened  and  read,  every  one  had  on 
it  the  name  of  Florence  Nightingale.  And  this 
prophecy  has  proved  correct ;  for  while  compara- 
tively few  people  could  recall  the  name  of  any  of 
the  military  leaders,  almost  any  one,  on  hearing 
the.  words  "Crimean  War,"  thinks,  half  uncon- 
sciouslv,  of  Florence  Nig-htino^ale. 


now  THEY  TOOK   THE   GOLD-TRAIN' 

CHARLES  KINGSLEY^ 

FORTNIGHT  or  more  has  passed  in 
severe  toil;^  but  not  more  severe  than 
they  have  endured  many  a  time  before. 
Bidding  farewell  once  and  forever  to 
the  green  ocean  of  the  eastern  plains, 
they  have  crossed  the  Cordillera;  they  have  taken 
a  lono-ing  o-lance  at  the  citv  of  Santa  Fe,  Ivinjj  in 
tlie  midst  of  rich  ojardens  on  its  loftv  mountain 

1.  This  selection  is  abridged  from  the  twenty-fifth  chapter  in  West- 
uard  Ho!  Charles  Kingsleys  great  novel  of  adventure. 

In  the  story  are  related  the  adventures  of  Amyas  Leigh,  a  large, 
jMjwerful  and  exceedingly  vigorous  man  from  Devonshire,  who  follows 
the  Ufe  of  the  sea  during  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Like  many 
of  the  men  of  his  age,  he  becomes  absorbed  \\'\lh  the  notion  that  in  South 
America  is  the  great  city  of  ^lanoa,  wh  jse  wealth  in  gold  and  jewels 
far  e.vceeiis  that  of  Mexico  and  Peru. 

After  an  exciting  voyage,  enlivened  by  conflicts  with  Spanish  ships, 
the  survivors  land  on  the  coast  of  South  America  and  proceed  inward 
in  search  of  Manoa.  Besides  the  dangers  from  Spaniards  and  natives, 
tliey  meet  with  all  the  perils  of  the  wilderness;  disease  and  death  at 
the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  Lidians  and  wild  animals  thinning  their 
ranks  to  less  than  half;  yet  the  spirits  of  Amyas  never  falter,  and  the 
remnant  of  his  force  follow  him  with  a  devotion  that  is  wonderful. 

'2.  Charles  Kingsley,  an  English  clergA^man,  was  born  in  1819  and 
entered  Cambridge  University  in  1838.  Ten  years  later  he  pubhshed  the 
first  of  his  stories,  and  in  18J5,  Westirard  Ho!  Next  to  this  book  proba- 
))!y  ranks  his  Hypatia,  which  he  published  in  1855,  and  which  tells  a 
thrilling  tale  of  the  struggles  of  Christianity  with  tlie  Greek  faith  in  the 
fifth  century.  He  was  a  successful  clergyman  and  became  Canon  of 
Westminster.  He  ^^sited  the  United  States  in  1874,  but  his  health  was 
even  then  failmg,  and  a  year  later  he  died. 

3.  The  party  landed  on  the  coast  of  South  America,  and  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter  is  told  the  storj-  of  their  stay  in  a  hospitable  Indian 
village  where  they  rested  and  prepared  them-;eh'es  for  two  weeks  of 
hard  travel. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train    101 

plateau,  and  have  seen,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
that  it  was  far  too  large  a  place  for  any  attempt 
of  theirs.  But  they  had  not  altogether  thrown 
away  their  time.  Their  Indian  lad*  has  dis- 
covered that  a  gold-train  is  going  down  from 
Santa  Fe  toward  the  Magdalena;  and  they  are 
waitino-  for  it  beside  the  miserable  rut  which 
serves  for  a  road,  encamped  in  a  forest  of  oaks 
which  would  make  them  almost  fancy  themselves 
back  again  in  Europe,  were  it  not  for  the  tree- 
ferns  which  form  the  under-growth ;  and  were  it 
not,  too,  for  the  deep  gorges  opening  at  their 
very  feet;  in  which,  while  their  brows  are  swept 
by  the  cool  breezes  of  a  temperate  zone,  they  can 
see  far  below,  dim  through  their  everlasting 
vapor-bath  of  rank  hot  steam,  the  mighty  forms 
and  gorgeous  colors  of  the  tropic  forest. 

They  have  pitched  their  camp  among  the  tree- 
ferns,  above  a  spot  where  the  path  winds  along 
a  steep  hill-side,  with  a  sheer  cliff  below  of  many 
a  hundred  feet.  There  was  a  road  there  once, 
perhaps,  when  Cundinamarca^  was  a  civilized 
and  cultivated  kingdom;  but  all  which  Spanish 
misrule  has  left  of  it  are  a  few  steps  slipping 
from  their  places  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  ditch 
of  mud.     It  has  gone  the  way  of  the  aqueducts, 

4.  This  Indian  l.'ul  was  resfiicd  from  the  Spaniards  Ijy  Aniyas  and  is 
devoted  to  tlie  latfe-r.  lie  arts  as  interpreter,  and  his  keen  sight  and 
familiarity  witli  llie  soutliern  wilderness  make  him  of  4,'reat  value  to 
the  wanderers. 

').  Cnndinamarea  wii.s  the  eenlral  province  in  what  is  now  the  Ue- 
f)iihlie  of  f'olonii)ia.  Its  streams  are  trihntary  to  the  Orinoeo,  tliont^h 
it  extends  westward  into  (he  Andes.  It  derived  its  name  from  a  native 
American  j^fKldess.  and  Ixt'ore  the  Spaniards  devastated  the  rej^ion  it  w.w 
one  of  the  chief  centers  of  Indian  eivili/ition  in  South  America. 


tO"2    HoAv  Thky  Took  the  Gold-Train 

and  bridges,  and  post-liouses,  the  gardens  and 
the  Hama-flocks  of  that  strange  empire.  In  the 
mad  search  for  gold,  every  art  of  civiHzation  has 
fallen  to  decay,  save  architecture  alone;  and  that 
survives  only  in  the  splendid  cathedrals  which 
have  risen  upon  the  ruins  of  the  temples  of  the 
Sun. 

And  now,  the  rapid  tropic  vegetation  has  re- 
claimed its  old  domains,  and  Amyas  and  his 
crew  are  as  utterly  alone,  within  a  few  miles  of  an 
important  Spanish  settlement,  as  they  would  be 
in  the  solitudes  of  the  Orinoco  or  the  Amazon. 

In  the  meanwhile,  all  their  attempts  to  find 
sulphur  and  nitre  have  been  unavailing;  and  they 
have  been  forced  to  depend  after  all  (much  to 
Yeo's^  disgust)  upon  their  swords  and  arrows. 
Be  it  so:  Drake^  took  Nombre  de  Dios  and  the 
gold- train  there  with  no  better  weapons;  and 
they  may  do  as  much. 

So,  having  blocked  up  the  road  above  by  felling 
a  large  tree  across  it,  they  sit  there  among  the 
flowers  chewing  coca,  in  default  of  food  and 
drink,  and  meditating  among  themselves  the 
cause  of  a  mysterious  roar,  which  has  been  heard 
nightly  in  their  wake  ever  since  they  left  the  banks 
of  the  Meta.     Jaguar  it  is  not,  nor  monkey:    it 

6.  Salvation  Yeo  is  a  big  white-haired  man,  older  than  Amyas,  who 
spent  his  early  life  in  wild  adventure  with  Drake  and  other  sailors  in 
the  Southern  Seas.  After  incredible  sufi'erings  while  in  the  hands  of 
the  Spaniards,  Salvation  becomes  a  most  ardent  and  devoted  Christian, 
but  with  a  fierce  hatred  of  the  Spaniards  and  all  things  Spanish  that  makes 
his  acts  strangely  inconsistent. 

7.  This  is  Sir  Francis  Drake,  the  discoverer  of  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
a  leader  in  many  thrilling  expeditions  and  exciting  conflicts  with  the 
Spaniards. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train   103 


DO   NOT   SHOOT   TILL   I    DO 


is  unlike  any  sound  they  know;  and  why  should 
it  follow  them  ?  However,  they  are  in  the  land 
of  wonders;  and,  moreover,  the  gold-train  is  far 
more  important  than  any  noise. 

At  last,  up  from  beneath  there  was  a  sharp 
crack  and  a  loud  cry.  The  crack  was  neither  the 
snapping  of  a  branch,  nor  the  tapping  of  a  wood- 
pecker; the  cry  was  neither  the  scream  of  the 
parrot,  nor  the  howl  of  the  monkey, — 

"That  was  a  whip's  crack,"  said  Yeo,  "and  a 
woman's  wail.     They  are  close  here,  lads  I" 

"A  woman's  ?  Do  they  drive  women  in  their 
gangs  ?  "  asked  Amy  as. 


104    How  They  Took  the  Gold- Train 

**^\^ly  not,  the  brutes?  There  they  are,  sir. 
Did  voii  see  tlieir  basnets  ";htter?" 

"M(nil'*  said  Aniyas  in  a  low  voice,  "I  trust 
you  all  not  to  shoot  till  I  do.  Then  give  them 
one  arrow,  out  swords,  and  at  them  I  Pass  the 
word  along." 

Up  they  came,  slowly,  and  all  hearts  beat  loud 
at  their  coming. 

First,  about  twenty  soldiers,  only  one-half  of 
whom  were  on  foot;  the  other  half  being  borne, 
incredible  as  it  may  seem,  each  in  a  chair  on  the 
back  of  a  single  Indian,  while  those  who  marched 
had  consigned  their  heavier  armor  and  their 
arc^uebuses  into  the  hands  of  attendant  slaves, 
who  were  each  pricked  on  at  will  by  the  pikes 
of  the  soldier  behind  them. 

"The  men  are  mad  to  let  their  ordnance  out 
of  their  hands." 

"Oh,  sir,  an  Indian  will  pray  to  an  arquebus 
not  to  shoot  him;  be  sure  their  artillery  is  safe 
enough,"  said  Yeo. 

"Look  at  the  proud  villains,"  whispered 
another,  "to  make  dumb  beasts  of  human 
creatures  like  that!" 

"Ten  shot,"  counted  the  businesslike  Amyas, 
"and  ten  pikes." 

Last  of  this  troop  came  some  inferior  officer, 
also  in  his  chair,  who,  as  he  went  slowly  up  the 
hill,  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  gang  which 
followed,  drew  every  other  second  the  cigar  from 
his  lips,  to  inspirit  them  with  those  ejacula- 
tions which  earned  for  the  Spaniards  of  the 
sixteenth   century   the    uncharitable   imputation 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train    105 

of  being  the  most  abominable  swearers  of   all 
Europeans. 

"The  blasphemous  dog!"  said  Yeo,  fumbhng 
at  his  bowstring,  as  if  he  longed  to  send  an  arrow 
through  him.  But  iVmyas  had  hardly  laid  his 
finger  on  the  impatient  veteran's  arm,  when 
another  procession  followed,  which  made  them 
foro;et  all  else. 

A  line  of  Indians,  Negroes,  and  Zambos, 
naked,  emaciated,  scarred  with  whips  and  fetters, 
and  chained  together  by  their  left  wrists,  toiled 
upwards,  panting  and  perspiring  under  the  bur- 
den of  a  basket  held  up  by  a  strap  which  j>assed 
across  their  foreheads.  Yeo's  sneer  was  but  too 
just;  there  were  not  only  old  men  and  youths 
among  them,  but  women;  slender  young  girls, 
mothers  with  children  running  at  their  knee; 
and,  at  the  sight,  a  low  murmur  of  indignation 
rose  from  the  ambushed  Englishmen,  worthy  of 
the  free  and  righteous  hearts  of  those  days,  when 
Raleigh  could  appeal  to  man  and  God,  on  the 
ground  of  a  common  humanity,  in  behalf  of  the 
outraged  heathens  of  the  New  World;  when 
Englishmen  still  knew  that  man  was  man,  and 
that  the  instinct  of  freedom  w^as  the  righteous 
voice  of  God;  ere  the  hapless  seventeenth  century 
had  brutalized  them  also,  by  bestowing  on  them, 
amid  a  hundred  other  bad  legacies,  the  fatal  gift 
of  negro-slaves. 

But  the  first  forty,  so  Amyas  counted,  bore  on 
their  backs  a  burden  which  made  all,  perhaps, 
but  him  and  Yeo,  forget  even  the  wretches  who 
liore  it.     Each  basket  contained  a  square  pack- 


106    How  Thky  Took  the  Gold-Train 

age  of  carefully  corded  hide;  the  look  whereof 
friend  Amyas  knew  full  well. 

''What's  in  they,  captain?" 

"Gold!"  And  at  that  magic  word  all  eyes 
were  strained  "reedilv  forward,  and  such  a  rustle 
followed,  that  Amyas,  in  the  very  face  of  de- 
tection, had  to  whisper — 

"Be  men,  be  men,  or  you  will  spoil  all  yet!" 

The  last  twenty,  or  so,  of  the  Indians  bore 
larger  baskets,  but  more  lightly  freighted,  seem- 
ingly with  manioc,  and  maize-bread,  and  other 
food  for  the  party;  and  after  them  came,  with 
their  bearers  and  attendants,  just  twenty  soldiers 
more,  followed  by  the  officer  in  charge,  who 
smiled  away  in  his  chair,  and  twirled  two  huge 
mustachios,  thinking  of  nothing  less  than  of  the 
English  arrows  which  were  itchino;  to  be  awav 
and  through  his  ribs.  The  ambush  was  com- 
plete ;  the  only  question  how  and  when  to  begin  ? 

Amyas  had  a  shrinking,  which  all  will  under- 
stand, from  drawing  bow  in  cold  blood  on  men 
so  utterly  unsuspicious  and  defenseless,  even 
though  in  the  very  act  of  de\dlish  cruelty — for 
devilish  cruelty  it  was,  as  three  or  four  drivers 
armed  with  whips,  lingered  up  and  down  the 
slowly  staggering  file  of  Indians,  and  avenged 
every  moment's  lagging,  even  every  stumble,  by 
a  blow  of  the  cruel  manati-hide,  which  cracked 
like  a  pistol-shot  against  the  naked  limbs  of  the 
silent  and  uncomplaining  victim. 

Suddenly  the  casus  belli,^  as  usually  happens, 
arose  of  its  own  accord. 

8.  Casus  belli  means  cause  of  war. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train   107 

The  last  but  one  of  the  chained  hne  was  an 
old  gray-headed  man,  followed  by  a  slender 
graceful  girl  of  some  eighteen  years  old,  and 
Amyas's  heart  yearned  over  them  as  they  came 
up.  Just  as  they  passed,  the  foremost  of  the  file 
had  rounded  the  corner  above;  there  was  a  bustle, 
and  a  voice  shouted,  "Halt,  Senors!  there  is  a 
tree  across  the  path!" 

"A  tree  across  the  path  ?"  bellowed  the  officer, 
while  the  line  of  trembling  Indians,  told  to  halt 
above,  and  driven  on  by  blows  below,  surged  up 
and  down  upon  the  ruinous  steps  of  the  Indian 
road,  until  the  poor  old  man  fell  groveling  on  his 
face. 

The  officer  leaped  down,  and  hurried  upward 
to  see  what  had  liappened.  Of  course,  he  came 
across  the  old  man. 

"Grandfather  of  Beelzebub,  is  this  a  place 
to  lie  worshiping  your  fiends  ? "  and  he  pricked 
the  prostrate  wretch  with  the  point  of  his 
sword. 

The  old  man  tried  to  rise ;  but  the  Meight  of  his 
head  was  too  much  for  him;  he  fell  again,  and  lay 
motionless. 

The  driver  applied  the  manati-hide  across  his 
loins,  once,  twice,  with  fearful  force;  but  even 
that  specific  was  useless. 

"Gastado,  Sefior  Capitan,"  said  he,  with  a 
shrug.  "Used  up.  He  has  been  failing  these 
three  months!" 

"What  does  the  intendant  mean  by  sending 
me  out  with  worn-out  cattle  like  these .''  For- 
ward there ! "  shouted  ho.     "  Clear  away  the  tree, 


108   How  They  Took  tuv:  Gold-Train 

Senors,  and  I'll  soon  clear  the  chain.  Hold  it 
up,  Pedrillo!" 

The  driver  lield  up  the  chain,  which  was 
fastened  to  the  old  man's  wrist.  The  officer 
stepped  back,  and  flourished  round  his  head  a 
Toledo  blade,  whose  beauty  made  Amyas  break 
the  Tenth  Commandment  on  the  spot. 

The  man  was  a  tall,  handsome,  broad- 
shouldered,  high-bred  man:  and  Amyas  thought 
that  he  was  going  to  display  the  strength  of  his 
arm,  and  the  temper  of  his  blade,  in  severing  the 
chain  at  one  stroke. 

Even  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  recondite 
fancies  of  a  Spanish  adventurer,  worthy  son  or 
nephew  of  those  first  conquerors,  who  used  to  try 
the  keenness  of  their  swords  upon  the  living 
bodies  of  Indians,  and  reo;ale  themselves  at  meals 
M  ith  the  odor  of  roasting  caciques. 

The  blade  gleamed  in  the  air,  once,  twice,  and 
fell:  not  on  the  chain,  l)ut  on  the  wrist  which  it 
fettered.  There  was  a  shriek,  a  crimson  flash — 
and  the  chain  and  its  prisoner  were  parted  indeed. 

One  moment  more,  and  Amyas's  arrow  would 
liave  been  through  the  throat  of  the  murderer, 
^^"ho  paused,  regarding  his  workmanship  with  a 
satisfied  smile;  but  vengeance  was  not  to  come 
from  him. 

Quick  and  fierce  as  a  tiger-cat,  the  girl  sprang 
on  the  ruflSan,  and  with  the  intense  strength  of 
passion,  clasped  him  in  her  arms  and  leaped  ^-ith 
him  from  the  narrow  ledge  into  the  abyss  below. 

There  was  a  rush,  a  shout;  all  faces  were  bent 
over  the  precipice.     The  girl  hung  by  her  chained 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Traix    109 

wrist:  the  officer  was  gone.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's awful  silence;  and  then  Amyas  heard  his 
body  crashing  through  the  tree-tops  far  below. 

"Haul  her  up!  Hew  her  to  pieces!  Burn 
the  witch!"  and  the  driver,  seizing  the  chain, 
pulled  at  it  with  all  his  might,  while  all  springing 
from  their  chairs,  stooped  over  the  brink. 

Now  was  the  time  for  Amyas!  Heaven  had 
delivered  them  into  his  hands.  Swift  and  sure, 
at  ten  yards  off,  his  arrow  rushed  through  the 
body  of  the  driver,  and  then,  with  a  roar  as  of  a 
leaping  lion,  he  sprang  like  an  avenging  angel 
into  the  midst  of  the  astonished  ruffians. 

His  first  thought  was  for  the  girl.  In  a  mo- 
ment, by  sheer  strength,  he  had  jerked  her  safely 
up  into  the  road;  Avhile  the  Spaniards  recoiled 
right  and  left,  fancying  him  for  the  moment 
some  mountain  giant  or  supernatural  foe.  His 
hurrah  undeceived  them  in  an  instant,  and  a  cry 
of  "English!  Dogs!"  arose,  but  arose  too  late. 
The  men  of  Devon  had  followed  their  captain's 
lead:  a  storm  of  arrows  left  five  Spaniards  dead, 
and  a  dozen  more  wounded,  and  down  leapt 
Salvation  Yeo,  his  white  hair  streaming  behind 
him,  with  twenty  good  swords  more,  and  the 
work  of  death  began. 

The  Spaniards  fought  like  lions;  but  they  had 
no  time  to  fix  their  arquebuses  on  the  crutches; 
no  room,  in  that  narrow  path,  to  use  their  pikes. 
The  English  had  the  wall  of  them;  and  to  have 
the  wall  there,  was  to  have  the  foe's  life  at  their 
mercy.  Five  desperate  minutes,  and  not  a  living 
Spaniard  stood  upon  those  steps;  and  certainly 


110    How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 

no  living  one  lay  in  the  green  abyss  below.  Two 
only,  who  were  behind  the  rest,  happening  to  be 
in  full  armor,  escaped  without  mortal  wound, 
and  fled  down  the  hill  again. 

"After  them!  Michael  Evans  and  Simon 
Heard;  and  catch  them,  if  they  run  a  league." 

The  two  long  and  lean  Clovelly  men,  active  as 
deer  from  forest  training,  ran  two  feet  for  the 
Spaniard's  one;  and  in  ten  minutes  returned, 
having  done  their  work;  while  Amyas  and  his 
men  hurried  past  the  Indians,  to  help  Gary  and 
the  party  forward,  where  shouts  and  musket 
shots  announced  a  sharp  affray. 

Their  arrival  settled  the  matter.  All  the 
Spaniards  fell  but  three  or  four,  who  scrambled 
down  the  crannies  of  the  cliff. 

"Let  not  one  of  them  escape!  Slay  them  as 
Israel  slew  Amalek!"  cried  Yeo,  as  he  bent  over; 
and  ere  the  wretches  could  reach  a  place  of 
shelter,  an  arrow  was  quivering  in  each  body,  as 
it  rolled  lifeless  down  the  rocks. 

"Now  then!     Loose  the  Indians!" 

They  found  armorers'  tools  on  one  of  the  dead 
bodies,  and  it  was  done. 

"We  are  friends,"  said  Amyas.  "All  we  ask 
is,  that  you  shall  help  us  carry  this  gold  down  to 
the  Magdalena,  and  then  you  are  free." 

Some  few  of  the  younger  groveled  at  his  knees, 
and  Idssed  his  feet,  hailing  him  as  the  child  of 
the  Sun :  but  the  most  part  kept  a  stolid  indiffer- 
ence, and  when  freed  from  their  fetters,  sat 
quietly  down  where  they  stood,  staring  into 
vacancy.     The  iron  had  entered  too  deeply  into 


AMYAS   SPilANG    UPON    TIIC.M 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Traix    111 

their  soul.  They  seemed  past  hope,  enjoyment, 
even  understanding. 

But  the  young  girl,  who  was  last  of  all  in  the 
line,  as  soon  as  she  was  loosed,  sprang  to  her 
father's  body,  speaking  no  word,  lifted  it  in  her 
thin  arms,  laid  it  across  her  knees,  kissed  the 
fallen  lips,  stroked  the  furrowed  cheeks,  mur- 
mured inarticulate  sounds  like  the  cooing  of  a 
woodland  dove,  of  which  none  knew  the  mean- 
ing but  she,  and  he  who  heard  not,  for  his 
soul  had  long  since  fled.  Suddenly  the  truth 
flashed  on  her;  silent  as  ever,  she  drew  one 
long  heavy  breath,  and  rose  erect,  the  body  in 
her  arms. 

Another  moment,  and  she  had  leaped  into  the 
abyss. 

They  watched  her  dark  and  slender  limbs, 
twined  closely  round  the  old  man's  corpse,  turn 
over,  and  over,  and  over,  till  a  crash  among  the 
leaves,  and  a  scream  among  the  birds,  told  that 
slie  had  reached  the  trees;  and  the  green  roof  hid 
her  from  their  view. 

*' Brave  lass!"  shouted  a  sailor. 

"The  Lord  forgive  her!"  said  Yeo.  "But, 
your  worship,  we  must  have  these  rascals'  ord- 
nance." 

"And  their  clothes  too,  Yeo,  if  we  wish  to  get 
down  the  Magdalena  unchallenged.  Now  listen, 
my  masters  all!  We  have  won,  by  God's  good 
grace,  gold  enough  to  serve  us  the  rest  of  our 
lives,  and  that  without  losing  a  single  man;  and 
may  yet  win  more,  if  we  be  wise,  and  He  thinks 
good.     But  oh,  my  friends,  do  not  make  God's 


ll'S    How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 

gift  our  ruin,  by  faithlessness,  or  greediness,  or 
jiTiy  mutinous  haste." 

"You  shall  find  none  in  us!"  cried  several 
men.  ''We  know  your  worship.  We  can  trust 
our  general." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Amyas.  "Now  then, 
it  will  be  no  shame  or  sin  to  make  the  Indians 
carry  it,  saving  the  women,  whom  God  forbid 
we  should  burden.  But  we  must  pass  through 
the  very  heart  of  the  Spanish  settlements,  and  by 
the  town  of  Saint  ^Martha  itself.  So  the  clothes 
and  weapons  of  these  Spaniards  we  must  have, 
let  it  cost  us  what  labor  it  may.  How  many  lie 
in  the  road  ?  " 

"Thirteen  here,  and  about  ten  up  above," 
said  Cary.^ 

"Then  there  are  near  twenty  missing.  Who 
will  volunteer  to  go  down  over  the  clifi',  and  bring 
lip  the  spoil  of  them  ?  " 

"I,  and  I,  and  I;"  and  a  dozen  stepped  out, 
as  they  did  always  when  Amyas  wanted  any- 
thing done;  for  the  simple  reason,  that  they 
knew  that  he  meant  to  help  at  the  doing  of  it 
himself. 

"Very  well,  then,  follow  me.  Sir  John,'"  take 
the  Indian  lad  for  your  interpreter,  and  try  and 
comfort  the  souls  of  these  poor  heathens.  Tell 
them  that  they  shall  all  be  free." 

"Why,  who  is  that  comes  up  the  road  ? " 

All  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  which 
he  spoke.     And,  wonder  of  wonders!  up  came 

9.  Will  Gary  is  the  lieutenant  and  right-band  man  of  Amyas. 
10.  Sir  John  Brimblecombe  is  the  chaplain  of  the  expedition. 


How  They  Took  thi:  Gold -Train   113 

none  other  than  Ayacanora^*  herself,  blow-gun 
in  hand,  bow  on  back,  and  bedecked  in  all  her 
feather  garments,  which  last  were  rather  the 
worse  for  a  fortnight's  woodland  travel. 

All  stood  mute  with  astonishment,  as,  seeing 
Amyas,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  quickened  her 
pace  into  a  run,  and  at  last  fell  panting  and  ex- 
hausted at  his  feet. 

"I  have  found  you!"  she  said;  "you  ran  away 
from  me,  but  you  could  not  escape  me!"  And 
she  fawned  round  Amyas,  like  a  dog  who  has 
found  his  master,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  bank, 
and  burst  into  wild  sobs. 

*'God  help  us!"  said  Amyas,  clutching  his 
hair,  as  he  looked  down  upon  the  beautiful 
weeper.  "What  am  I  to  do  with  her,  over  and 
above  all  these  poor  heathens  ?  " 

But  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  over  the 
cliff  he  scram])led;  while  the  ffirl,  seeino-  that  the 
main  body  of  the  English  remained,  sat  down  on 
a  point  of  rock  to  watch  him. 

After  half-an-hour's  hard  work,  the  weapons, 
clothes,  and  armor  of  the  fallen  Spaniards  were 
hauled  up  the  clifl',  and  distributed  in  bundles 
among  the  men;  the  rest  of  the  corpses  were 
thrown  over  the  precipice,  and  they  started  again 
upon  their  road   toward   the  Magdalena,   while 


11.  Ayacariora  is  a  beautiful  Indian  princess  whom  llie  Spaniai-Js 
met  in  the  hulian  village  desoritjed  in  the  preceding  chapter.  Shr 
seems  quite  did'erent  from  others  of  tlie  tribe,  and  is  tliouglit  to  be  a  dc- 
seendant  from  one  of  the  light-skinned  Peruvian  Incas,  wIkjui  the  Span- 
iards had  almost  entirely  extinguished.  Much  later  in  the  story  she  is 
discovered  to  be  of  real  white  descent,  and  at  the  end  of  the  book  slie 
becomes  the  wife  of  Amvas. 


114   How  Thky  Took  thf.  Gold -Train 

Yeo  snorted  like  a  ^\al-ho^se  who  smells  the 
hattle,  at  the  delight  of  once  more  handling- 
powder  and  ball. 

"We  can  face  the  world  now,  sir!  Why  not 
go  back  and  try  Santa  Fe,  after  all  ?" 

But  Amyas  thought  that  enough  was  as  good 
as  a  feast,  and  they  held  on  downwards,  while 
the  slaves  followed,  without  a  sign  of  gratitude, 
but  meekly  obedient  to  their  new  masters,  and 
testifying  now  and  then  by  a  sign  or  a  grunt, 
their  surprise  at  not  being  beaten,  or  made  to 
carry  their  captors.  Some,  however,  caught 
sio;ht  of  the  little  calabashes  of  coca  which  the 
English  carried.  That  woke  them  from  their 
torpor,  and  they  began  coaxing  abjectly  (and 
not  in  vain)  for  a  taste  of  that  miraculous  herb, 
which  would  not  only  make  food  unnecessary, 
and  enable  their  panting  lungs  to  endure  the 
keen  mountain  air,  but  would  rid  them,  for  a 
while  at  least,  of  the  fallen  Indian's  most  un- 
pitying  foe,  the  malady  of  thought. 

As  the  cavalcade  turned  the  corner  of  the 
mountain,  they  paused  for  one  last  look  at  the 
scene  of  that  fearful  triumph.  Lines  of  vultures 
were  already  streaming  out  of  infinite  space,  as 
if  created  suddenly  for  the  occasion.  A  few 
hours  and  there  would  be  no  trace  of  that  fierce 
fray,  but  a  few  white  bones  amid  untrodden  beds 
of  flowers. 

And  now  Amyas  had  time  to  ask  Ayacanora 
the  meaning  of  this  her  strange  appearance.  He 
wished  her  anywhere  but  where  she  was:  but 
now  that  she  was  here,  what  heart  could  be  so 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train   115 

hard  as  not  to  take  pity  on  the  poor  wild  tiling  ? 
And  Amyas  as  he  spoke  to  her  had,  perhaps,  a 
tenderness  in  his  tone,  from  very  fear  of  hurting 
her,  which  he  had  never  used  before.  Passion- 
ately she  told  him  how  she  had  followed  on  their 
track  day  and  night,  and  had  every  evening 
made  sounds,  as  loud  as  she  dared,  in  hopes  of 
their  hearing  her,  and  either  waiting  for  her,  or 
coming  back  to  see  what  caused  the  noise. 

Amyas  now  recollected  the  strange  roaring 
which  had  followed  them. 

"Noises.^     What  did  you  make  them  with.^" 

Ayacanora  lifted  her  finger  with  an  air  of  most 
self-satisfied  mystery;  and  then  drew  cautiously 
from  under  her  feather  cloak  an  object  at  which 
Amyas  had  hard  work  to  keep  his  countenance. 

"Look!"  whispered  she,  as  if  half  afraid  that 
the  thing  itself  should  hear  her.  "I  have  it — 
the  holy  trumpet!" 

There  it  was,  a  handsome  earthen  tube  some 
two  feet  long,  neatly  glazed,  and  painted  with 
quaint  grecques  and  figures  of  animals;  a  relic 
evidently  of  some  civilization  now  extinct. 

Brimblecombe  rubbed  his  little  fat  hands. 
"  Brave  maid !  you  have  cheated  Satan  this  time," 
fjuoth  he:  wliile  Yeo  advised  that  the  idolatrous 
relic  should  be  forthwith  "hove  over  cliff." 

"Let  be,"  said  Amyas.  "What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this,  Ayacanora  ?  And  why  have  you 
followed  us  'i  " 

She  told  a  long  story,  from  which  Amyas 
picked  up,  as  far  as  he  could  understand  her, 
that  that  trumpet  had  ])een  for  years  the  torment 


116   How  They  Took  thi:  Gold-Train 

of  lier  life;  the  one  thing  in  the  tribe  superior  to 
lier;  the  one  thing  wliich  slie  was  not  allowed  to 
see,  because,  forsooth,  she  was  a  woman.  So 
she  determined  to  show  them  that  a  woman  was 
as  good  as  a  man;  and  hence  her  hatred  of 
marriage,  and  her  Amazonian  exploits.  But 
still  the  Piache'-  would  not  show  her  that  trum- 
pet, or  tell  her  where  it  was:  and  as  for  going  to 
seek  it,  even  she  feared  the  superstitious  wrath 
of  the  tribe  at  such  a  profanation.  But  the  day 
after  the  English  went,  the  Piache  chose  to  ex- 
press his  joy  at  their  departure;  whereon,  as  was 
to  be  expected,  a  fresh  explosion  between  master 
and  pupil,  which  ended,  she  confessed,  in  her 
burning  the  old  rogue's  hut  over  his  head,  from 
which  he  escaped  Mith  loss  of  all  his  conjuring- 
tackle,  and  fled  raging  into  the  woods,  vowing 
that  he  would  carry  off  the  trumpet  to  the  neigh- 
boring tribe.  Whereon,  l)y  a  sudden  impulse, 
the  young  lady  took  plenty  of  coca,  her  Aveapons, 
and  her  feathers,  started  on  his  trail,  and  ran 
him  to  earth  just  as  he  was  unveiling  the  precious 
mystery.  At  which  sight  (she  confessed)  she 
was  horribly  afraid,  and  half  inclined  to  run: 
but,  gathering  courage  from  the  thought  that 
the  white  men  used  to  laugh  at  the  whole  matter, 
she  rushed  upon  the  hapless  conjurer,  and  bore 
off  her  prize  in  triumph;  and  there  it  was! 

"I  hope  you  have  not  killed  him  ? "  said  Amyas. 

"I  did  beat  him  a  little;  but  I  thought  you 
would  not  let  me  kill  him." 

12.  The  Piache  is  the  chief  medicine  man  of  the  tribe  of  Indian* 
aiiong  whom  Ayacanora  was  regarded  as  a  powerful  princess. 


How  Thi;y  Took  the  Gold-Train    117 

Am}'as  was  half  amused  with  her  confession 
of  liis  authority  over  her:  but  she  went  on,— 

"And  then  I  dare  not  go  back  to  the  Indians; 
so  I  was  forced  to  come  after  you." 

"And  is  that,  then,  your  only  reason  for  com- 
ing after  us  ?  "  asked  stupid  Amyas. 

He  had  touched  some  secret  chord — though 
what  it  was  he  was  too  busy  to  inquire.  The 
girl  drew  herself  up  proudly,  blushing  scarlet, 
and  said — 

"You  never  tell  lies.  Do  you  think  that  I 
would  tell  lies  ?  " 

On  which  she  fell  to  the  rear,  and  followed 
them  steadfastly,  speaking  to  no  one,  but  evi- 
dently determined  to  follow  them  to  the  world's 
end. 

They  soon  left  the  high  road;  and  for  several 
days  held  on  downwards,  hewing  their  path 
slowly  and  painfully  through  the  thick  under- 
wood. On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  they 
had  reached  the  margin  of  a  river,  at  a  point 
where  it  seemed  broad  and  still  enough  for  navi- 
gation. For  those  three  days  they  had  not  seen 
a  trace  of  human  Ijeings,  and  the  spot  seemed 
lonely  enough  for  them  to  encamp  without  fear 
of  discovery,  and  begin  the  making  of  their 
canoes.  They  began  to  spread  tliemselves  along 
the  stream,  in  search  of  the  soft-wooded  trees 
proper  for  their  purpose;  but  hardly  had  their 
search  begun,  when,  in  the  midst  of  a  dense 
thicket,  they  came  upon  a  sight  which  filled  them 
with  astonishment.  Beneath  a  honey-combed 
cliff,  which  supported  one  enonnous  cotton-tree, 

Vol  IX.— 9. 


IIS    ^()^A    Tni.A    Took  thk  Gold-Train 


A    FIGXJRE    ISSUED    FROM   A    CAVE 


was  a  spot  of  some  thirty  yards  square  sloping 
down  to  the  stream,  planted  in  rows  with  mag- 
nificent banana-plants,  full  twelve  feet  high, 
and  bearing  amono^  their  huo-e  wax^^  leaves 
clusters  of  ripening  fruit;  while,  under  their 
mellow  shade,  yams  and  cassava  plants  were 
flourishino^  luxuriantly,  the  whole  beings  sur- 
rounded  by  a  hedge  of  orange  and  scarlet  flowers. 
There  it  lay,  streaked  with  long  shadows  from 
the  setting  sun,  w^hile  a  cool  southern  air  rustled 
in  the  cotton-tree,  and  flapped  to  and  fro  the 
great  banana  leaves;  a  tiny  paradise  of  art  and 
care.     But  where  was  its  inhabitant  ? 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train    119 

Aroused  by  the  noise  of  their  approach,  a 
figure  issued  fr©ni  a  cave  in  the  rocks,  and,  after 
gazing  at  them  for  a  moment,  came  down  the 
garden  towards  them.  He  was  a  tall  and  stately 
old  man,  whose  snow-white  beard  and  hair  cov- 
ered his  chest  and  shoulders,  while  his  lower 
limbs  were  wrapt  in  Indian-web.  Slowly  and 
solemnly  he  approached,  a  staff  in  one  hand,  a 
string  of  beads  in  the  other,  the  living  likeness 
of  some  old  Hebrew  prophet,  or  anchorite  of 
ancient  legend.  He  bowed  courteously  to  Am- 
yas  (who  of  course  returned  his  salute) ,  and  was 
in  act  to  speak,  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
Indians,  who  were  laying  down  their  burdens  in 
a  heap  under  the  trees.  His  mild  countenance 
assumed  instantly  an  expression  of  the  acutest 
sorrow  and  displeasure;  and,  striking  his  hands 
together,  he  spoke  in  Spanish — 

"Alas !  miserable  me !  Alas !  unhappy  Seiiors ! 
Do  my  old  eyes  deceive  me,  and  is  it  one  of  those 
evil  visions  of  the  past  which  haunt  my  dreams 
by  night:  or  has  the  accursed  thirst  for  gold,  the 
ruin  of  my  race,  penetrated  even  into  this  my 
solitude  .^  Oh,  Sefiors,  Senors,  know  you  not 
that  you  bear  with  you  youi-  own  poison,  your 
own  familiar  fiend,  the  root  of  every  evil  ?  And 
is  it  not  enough  for  you,  Senors,  to  load  your- 
selves with  the  wedge  of  Achan,  and  partake 
his  doom,  but  you  must  make  these  hapless 
heathens  the  victims  of  your  greed  and  cruelty, 
and  forestall  for  them  on  earth  those  torments 
which  may  await  their  iinbaptized  souls  here- 
after .>" 


l^iO    How  Thky  Took  the  Gold-Train 

"AVe  liave  preserved,  and  not  enslaved  these 
Indians,  ancient  Seiior,"  said  Amyas  prondly; 
"and  to-morrow  will  see  them  as  free  as  the 
birds  over  our  heads." 

"Free?  Then  you  cannot  be  countr^inen  of 
mine!  But  pardon  an  old  man,  my  son,  if  he 
has  spoken  too  hastily  in  the  bitterness  of  his  own 
experience.  But  who  and  whence  are  you  ? 
And  whv  are  vou  brinoino;  into  this  lonelv  wilder- 
ness  that  gold — for  I  know  too  well  the  shape  of 
those  accursed  packets,  A^hich  would  God  that 
I  had  never  seen!" 

"^Miat  we  are,  reverend  sir,  matters  little,  as 
long  as  we  behave  to  you  as  the  young  should  to 
the  old.  As  for  our  gold,  it  will  be  a  curse  or  a 
blessing  to  us,  I  conceive,  just  as  we  use  it  well 
or  ill;  and  so  is  a  man's  head,  or  his  hand,  or  any 
other  thing;  but  that  is  no  reason  for  cutting  off 
his  limbs  for  fear  of  doing  harm  with  them; 
neither  is  it  for  throwing  away  those  packages, 
which,  by  your  leave,  we  shall  deposit  in  one  of 
these  caves.  We  must  be  your  neighbors,  I  fear, 
for  a  day  or  two;  but  I  can  promise  you  that  your 
garden  shall  be  respected,  on  condition  that  you 
do  not  inform  any  human  soul  of  our  being 
here." 

"God  forbid,  Seiior,  that  I  should  try  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  my  visitors,  much  less  to 
bring  hither  strife  and  blood,  of  which  I  have 
seen  too  much  already.  As  you  have  come  in 
peace,  in  peace  depart.  Leave  me  alone  with 
God  and  my  penitence,  and  may  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  you!" 


How  They  Took  the    Gold-Train    121 

And  he  was  about  to  withdraw,  when,  recol- 
lecting himself,  he  turned  suddenly  to  Amyas 
again: 

"Pardon  me,  Senor,  if,  after  forty  years  of 
utter  solitude,  I  shrink  at  first  from  the  conversa- 
tion of  human  beings,  and  forget,  in  the  habitual 
shyness  of  a  recluse,  the  duties  of  a  hospitable 
gentleman  of  Spain.  My  garden,  and  all  which 
it  produces,  is  at  your  service.  Only  let  me 
entreat  that  these  poor  Indians  shall  have  their 
share;  for  heathens  though  they  be,  Christ  died 
for  them;  and  I  cannot  but  cherish  in  my  soul 
some  secret  hope  that  He  did  not  die  in  vain." 

"God  forbid!"  said  Brimblecombe.  "They 
are  no  worse  than  we,  for  aught  I  see,  whatso- 
ever their  fathers  may  have  been;  and  they  have 
fared  no  A\orse  than  we  since  they  have  been 
with  us,  nor  will,  I  promise  you." 

The  good  fellow  did  not  tell  that  he  had  been 
starving  himself  for  the  last  three  days  to  cram 
the  children  with  his  own  rations;  and  that  the 
sailors,  and  even  Amyas,  had  been  going  out  of 
their  way  every  five  minutes,  to  get  fruit  for  their 
new  pets. 

A  camp  was  soon  formed;  and  that  evening 
the  old  hermit  asked  Amyas,  Gary,  and  Brimble- 
combe to  come  up  into  his  cavern. 

They  went;  and  after  the  accustomed  compH- 
ments  had  passed,  sat  down  on  mats  upon  the 
ground,  while  the  old  man  stood,  leaning  against 
a  slab  of  stone  surmounted  by  a  rude  wooden 
cross,  which  served  him  as  a  place  of  prayer. 

*         ^         '^         Jh        --}:        *        ^        *        >jj        ;{::        >i;        >{;         -^         :{: 


l''2'-2   How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 

Tlio  talk  lasted  long  into  the  night,'''  but  Am- 
yas  was  up  long  before  daybreak,  felling  the  trees; 
and  as  he  and  Cary  walked  back  to  breakfast, 
the  first  thing  which  they  saw  was  the  old  man 
in  his  garden  with  four  or  five  Indian  children 
roiuid  him,  talking  smilingly  to  them, 

"The  old  man's  heart  is  sound  still;'  said 
Will.  "No  man  is  lost  who  is  still  fond  of  little 
children." 

''Ah,  Senors!"  said  the  hermit  as  they  came 
up,  "you  see  that  I  have  begun  already  to  act 
upon  your  advice." 

"And  you  have  begun  at  the  right  end,"  quoth 
Amyas;  "if  you  win  the  children,  you  win  the 
mothers." 

"And  if  you  win  the  mothers,"  quoth  Will, 
"the  poor  fathers  must  needs  obey  their  wives, 
and  follow  in  the  wake  " 

The  old  man  only  sighed.  "The  prattle  of 
these  little  ones  softens  my  hard  heart,  Senors, 
with  a  new  pleasure;  but  it  saddens  me,  when  I 
recollect  that  there  may  be  children  of  mine  now 
in  the  world — children  who  have  never  known  a 
father's  love — never  known  aught  but  a  master's 
threats " 


"God  has  taken  care  of  these  little  ones. 
Trust  that  He  has  taken  care  of  yours." 

That  day  Amyas  assembled  the  Indians,  and 
told  them  that  they  must  obey  the  hermit  as  their 

13.  The  old  hermit  proves  to  be  one  of  the  survivors  of  Pizarro's 
company.  He  took  part  in  the  destruction  of  native  civilization  and  was 
guilty  of  all  the  cruelties  and  barbarities  that  his  race  practiced.  He 
is  living  now  in  the  wilderness  in  an  eflfort  to  atone  for  his  terrible 
sins. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train    123 

king,  and  settle  there  as  best  they  could:  for  if 
they  broke  up  and  wandered  away,  nothing  was 
left  for  them  but  to  fall  one  by  one  into  the  hands 
of  the  Spaniards.  They  heard  him  with  their 
usual  melancholy  and  stupid  acquiescence,  and 
went  and  came  as  they  were  bid,  like  animated 
machines;  but  the  negroes  were  of  a  different 
temper;  and  four  or  five  stout  fellows  gave  Am- 
yas  to  understand  that  they  had  been  warriors 
in  their  own  country,  and  that  warriors  they 
would  be  still;  and  nothing  should  keep  them 
from  Spaniard-hunting.  xVmyas  saw  that  the 
presence  of  these  desperadoes  in  the  new  colony 
would  both  endanger  the  authority  of  the  hermit, 
and  bring  the  Spaniards  down  upon  it  in  a  few 
weeks;  so  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  he  asked 
them  whether  they  would  go  Spaniard-hunting 
with  him. 

This  was  just  what  the  bold  Coromantees 
wished  for;  they  grinned  and  shouted  their  de- 
light at  serving  under  so  great  a  warrior,  and 
then  set  to  work  most  gallantly,  getting  through 
more  in  the  day  than  any  ten  Indians,  and  in- 
deed than  any  two  Englishmen. 

So  went  on  several  days,  during  wliich  the 
trees  were  felled,  and  the  process  of  digging  them 
out  began;  while  Ayacanora,  silent  and  moody, 
wandered  into  the  woods  all  day  with  her  blow- 
gun,  and  l)rought  home  at  evening  a  load  of 
parrots,  monkeys,  and  curassows;  two  or  three 
old  hands  were  sent  out  to  hunt  likewise;  so  that, 
what  with  the  oame  and  the  fish  of  the  river, 
which  seemed  inexhaustible,  and  tlie  fruit  of  the 


V24    How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 

neighboring  palm-trees,  there  was  no  lack  of 
food  in  the  camp.  But  what  to  do  with  Aya- 
canora  ^^■eighed  heavily  on  the  mind  of  Amyas. 
He  opened  his  heart  on  the  matter  to  the  old 
hermit,  and  asked  him  whether  he  would  take 
charge  of  her.  The  latter  smiled,  and  shook  his 
head  at  the  notion.  "If  your  report  of  her  be 
true,  I  may  as  well  take  in  hand  to  tame  a 
jaguar."  However,  he  promised  to  try;  and  one 
evening,  as  they  were  all  standing  together  be- 
fore the  mouth  of  the  cave,  Ayacanora  came  up 
smiling  with  the  fruit  of  her  day's  sport;  and 
xVmyas,  thinking  this  a  fit  opportunity,  began  a 
carefully-prepared  harangue  to  her,  which  he 
intended  to  be  altogether  soothing,  and  even 
pathetic, — to  the  effect  that  the  maiden,  having 
no  parents,  was  to  look  upon  this  good  old  man 
as  her  father;  that  he  would  instruct  her  in  the 
white  man's  religion  and  teach  her  how  to  be 
happy  and  good,  and  so  forth;  and  that,  in  fine, 
she  was  to  remain  there  with  the  hermit. 

She  heard  him  quietly,  her  great  dark  eyes 
opening  wider  and  wider,  her  bosom  swelling, 
her  stature  seeming  to  grow  taller  every  moment, 
as  she  clenched  her  weapons  firmly  in  both  her 
hands.  Beautiful  as  she  always  was,  she  had 
never  looked  so  beautiful  before;  and  as  Amyas 
spoke  of  parting  with  her,  it  was  like  throwing 
away  a  lovely  toy;  but  it  must  be  done,  for  her 
.sake,  for  his,  perhaps  for  that  of  all  the  crew. 

The  last  words  had  hardly  passed  his  lips, 
when,  with  a  shriek  of  mingled  scorn,  rage,  and 
fear,  she  dashed  through  the  astonished  group. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train  125 

"Stop  her!"  was  Aniyas's  first  word;  but  his 
next  was,  "Let  her  go!"  for  springing  like  a 
deer  through  the  httle  garden,  and  over  the 
flower-fence,  she  turned,  menacing  with  her 
blow-2:un  the  sailors,  who  had  already  started  in 
her  pursuit. 

"Let  her  alone,  for  Heaven's  sake!"  shouted 
Amyas,  who,  he  scarce  knew  why,  shrank  from 
the  thought  of  seeing  those  graceful  limbs  strug- 
gling in  the  seamen's  grasp. 

She  turned  again,  and  in  another  minute  her 
gaudy  plumes  had  vanished  among  the  dark 
forest  stems,  as  swiftly  as  if  she  had  been  a  pass- 
ing bird. 

All  stood  thunderstruck  at  this  unexpected  end 
to  the  conference.     At  last  Amyas  spoke — 

"There's  no  use  in  standing  here  idle,  gentle- 
men. Staring  after  her  won't  bring  her  back. 
After  all,  I'm  glad  she's  gone," 

But  Ayacanora  did  not  return;  and  ten  days 
more  went  on  in  continual  toil  at  the  canoes  with- 
out any  news  of  her  from  the  hunters.  Amyas, 
by  the  bye,  had  strictly  bidden  these  last  not  to 
follow  the  girl,  not  even  to  speak  to  her,  if  they 
came  across  her  in  their  wanderings.  He  was 
shrewd  enough  to  guess  that  the  only  way  to 
cure  her  sulkiness  was  to  out-sulk  her;  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  her  presence  in  any  direction;  and 
the  canoes  being  finished  at  last,  the  gold,  and 
such  provisions  as  they  could  collect,  were 
placed  on  board,  and  one  evening  the  party  pre- 
pared for  their  fresh  voyage.  They  determined 
to  travel  as  much  as  possible  by  night,  for  fear 


126  How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 

of  discovery,  especially  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  fcNv  Spanish  settlements  ^vhich  Avere  then 
scattered  along  the  banks  of  the  main  stream. 
These,  however,  the  negroes  kncAv,  so  that  there 
was  no  fear  of  coming  on  them  unawares;  and 
as  for  falling  asleep  in  their  night  journeys, 
"Nobody,"  the  negroes  said,  "ever  slept  on  the 
IMagdalena;  the  mosquitoes  took  too  good  care 
of  that."  Which  fact  Amyas  and  his  crew  veri- 
fied afterwards  as  thoroughly  as  wretched  men 
could  do. 

The  sun  had  sunk;  the  night  had  all  but 
fallen;  the  men  were  all  on  board;  Amyas  in 
command  of  one  canoe,  Cary  of  the  other.  The 
Indians  were  grouped  on  the  bank,  watching  the 
party  with  their  listless  stare,  and  with  them 
the  young  guide,  who  preferred  remaining 
among  the  Indians,  and  was  made  supremely 
happy  by  the  present  of  a  Spanish  sword  and  an 
English  ax;  while,  in  the  midst,  the  old  hermit, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  prayed  God's  blessing  on 
them. 

"I  owe  to  you,  noble  cavaliers,  new  peace, 
new  labor,  I  may  say,  new  life.  ^lay  God  be 
with  you,  and  teach  you  to  use  your  gold  and 
your  swords  better  than  I  used  mine." 

The  adventurers  waved  their  hands  to  him. 

"Give  way,  men,"  cried  Amyas;  and  as  he 
spoke  the  paddles  dashed  into  the  water,  to  a 
right  English  hurrah !  which  sent  the  birds  flutter- 
ing from  their  roosts,  and  was  answered  by  the 
yell  of  a  hundred  monkeys,  and  the  distant  roar 
of  the  jaguar. 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train   127 

About  twenty  yards  below,  a  wooded  rock, 
some  ten  feet  high,  hung  over  the  stream.  The 
river  was  not  there  more  than  fifteen  yards 
broad;  deep  near  the  rock,  shallow  on  the  farther 
side;  and  Amyas's  canoe  led  the  way,  within  ten 
feet  of  the  stone. 

As  he  passed,  a  dark  figure  leapt  from  the 
bushes  on  the  edge,  and  plunged  heavily  into 
the  water  close  to  the  boat.  All  started.  A 
jaguar  't  No ;  he  would  not  have  missed  so  short 
a  spring.     What,  then  }     A  human  being  "i 

A  head  rose  panting  to  the  surface,  and  with 
a  few  strong  strokes,  the  swimmer  had  clutched 
the  gunwale.     It  was  Ayacanora ! 

"Go  back!"  shouted  Amyas.  "Go  back, 
girl!" 

She  uttered  the  same  wild  cry  with  which  she 
had  fled  into  the  forest. 

"I  will  die,  then! "  and  she  threw  up  her  arms. 
Another  moment,  and  she  had  sunk. 

To  see  her  perish  before  his  eyes!  who  could 
bear  that .''  Her  hands  alone  were  above  the 
surface.  Amyas  caught  convulsively  at  her  in 
the  darkness,  and  seized  her  wrist. 

A  yell  rose  from  the  negroes:  a  roar  from  the 
crew  as  from  a  cage  of  lions.  There  was  a  rush 
and  a  swirl  along  the  surface  of  the  stream;  and 
"Caiman!'^  caiman!"  shouted  twenty  voices. 

Now,  or  never,  for  the  strong  arm!  "To 
larboard,  men,  or  over  we  go!"  cried  Amyas, 
and  with  one  huge  heave,  he  Hfted  the  slender 
body  upon  the  gunwale.      Her  lower  limbs  were 

14.  A  caiman,  or  cayman,  is  a  species  of  alligator. 


1^28   How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train 

still  in  the  water,  when,  within  arm's  length,  rose 
above  the  stream  a  huge  muzzle.  The  lower 
jaw  lay  flat,  the  upper  reached  as  high  as 
Amvas's  head.  He  could  see  the  lone:  fangs 
gleam  white  in  the  moonshine;  he  could  see  for 
one  moment,  full  down  the  monstrous  depths  of 
that  great  gape,  which  would  have  crushed  a 
bufi'alo.  Three  inches,  and  no  more,  from  that 
soft  side,  the  snout  surged  up— — 

There  was  the  gleam  of  an  ax  from  above,  a 
sharp  ringing  blow,  and  the  jaws  came  together 
with  a  clash  which  rang;  from  l)ank  to  bank.  He 
had  missed  her!  Swerving  beneath  the  blow, 
liis  snout  had  passed  beneath  her  body,  and 
smashed  up  against  the  side  of  the  canoe,  as  the 
striker,  overbalanced,  fell  headlong  overboard 
upon  the  monster's  back. 

"Who  is  it.'" 

"Yeol"  shouted  a  dozen. 

Man  and  beast  went  down  together,  and  where 
they  sank,  the  moonlight  shone  on  a  great  swirl- 
ing eddy,  while  all  held  their  breaths,  and 
Ayacanora  cowered  down  into  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe,  her  proud  spirit  utterly  broken,  for  the 
first  time,  by  the  terror  of  that  great  need,  and 
by  a  bitter  loss.  For  in  the  struggle,  the  holy 
trumpet,  companion  of  all  her  wanderings,  had 
fallen  from  her  bosom;  and  her  fond  hope  of 
bringing  magic  prosperity  to  her  English  friends 
had  sunk  with  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  stream. 

None  heeded  her;  not  even  Amyas,  round 
whose  knees  she  clung,  fawning  like  a  spaniel 
dog:  for  where  was  Yeo  .^ 


How  They  Took  the  Gold -Train    1'29 

Another  swirl;  a  shout  from  the  canoe  abreast 
of  them,  and  Yeo  rose,  having  dived  clean  under 
his  own  boat,  and  risen  between  the  two. 

"Safe  as  yet,  lads!  Heave  me  a  line,  or  he'll 
have  me  after  all." 

But  ere  the  brute  reappeared,  the  old  man  was 
safe  on  board. 

"The  Lord  has  stood  by  me,"  panted  he,  as  he 
shot  the  water  from  his  ears.  "We  went  down 
together:  I  knew  the  Indian  trick,  and  being 
uppermost,  had  my  thumbs  in  his  eyes  before  he 
could  turn:  but  he  carried  me  down  to  the  very 
mud.  My  breath  was  nigh  gone,  so  I  left  go, 
and  struck  up:  but  my  toes  tingled  as  I  rose 
again,  I'll  warrant.  There  the  beggar  is,  looking 
for  me,  I  declare!" 

And  true  enough,  there^  was  the  huge  brute 
swimming  slowly  round  and  round,  in  search  of 
his  lost  victim.  It  was  too  dark  to  put  an  arrow 
into  his  eye;  so  they  paddled  on,  while  Ayacanora 
crouched  silently  at  iVmyas's  feet. 

"Yeo!"  asked  he,  in  a  low  voice,  "what  shall 
we  do  with  her  .^" 

"Why  ask  me,  sir.^"  said  the  old  man,  as  he 
had  a  very  good  right  to  ask. 

"Because,  when  one  don't  know  oneself,  one 
had  best  inquire  of  one's  elders.  Besides,  you 
saved  her  life  at  the  risk  of  your  own,  and  have  a 
right  to  a  voice  in  the  matter,  if  any  one  has,  old 
friend." 

"Then,  my  dear  young  captain,  if  the  Lord 
puts  a  precious  soul  under  your  care,  don't  you 
refuse  to  bear  the  burden  He  lays  on  you." 


130   How  They  Took  the  Gold-Train 


AmviKs  was  silenl  awliile:  M'liile  Ayacanora, 
A\lio  was  evidently  utterly  exhausted  by  the 
night's  adventure,  and  |)robabIy  by  long  wander- 
ings, watc'hings,  and  weepings  whieh  had  gone 
before  it.  sank  with  her  head  against  his  knee, 
fell  fast  asleep,  and  l^reathed  as  gently  as  a  child. 

At  last  he  rose  in  the  canoe,  and  called  Gary 
alongside. 

"Listen  to  me,  gentlemen,  and  sailors  all. 
Vou  know  that  we  have  a  maiden  on  board  here, 
l)y  no  choice  of  our  own.  Whether  she  will  be 
a  blessino;  to  us,  God  alone  can  tell :  but  she  mav 
turn  to  the  greatest  curse  which  has  befallen  us 
ever  since  we  came  out  over  Bar  three  years  ago. 
Promise  me  one  thing,  or  I  put  her  ashore  the 
next  beach;  and  that  is,  that  you  will  treat  her 
as  if  she  were  your  own  sister," 


A  BED  OF  NETTLES 


GRANT  ALLEN 

EACHING  my  hand  into  the  hedge- 
row to  pick  a  long,  hthe,  blossom- 
ing spray  of  black  bryony  —  here 
it  is,  with  its  graceful  climbing- 
stem,  its  glossy,  heart-shaped 
leaves  and  its  pretty  greenish  lily 
flowers — I  have  stung  myself  rather 
badly  against  the  nettles  that  grow^  rank  and  tall 
from  the  rich  mud  in  the  ditch  below.  Nothing 
soothes  a  nettle  sting  like  philosophy  and  dock- 
leaf;  so  I  shall  rub  a  little  of  the  leaf  on  my  hand 
and  then  sit  awhile  on  the  Hole  Farm  gate  here 
to  philosophize  about  nettles  and  things  gener- 
ally, as  is  my  humble  wont.  There  is  a  great 
deal  more  in  nettles,  I  believe,  than  most  people 
are  apt  to  imagine;  indeed,  the  nettle-philosopliy 
at  present  current  with  the  larger  part  of  the 
world  seems  to  me  lamentably  one-sided.  As  a 
rule,  the  sting  is  the  only  point  in  the  whole 
orcjanization  of  the  familv  over  Mliich  we  evei- 
waste  a  sinole  tliou<»ht.  This  is  our  ordinary 
human  narrowness;  in  each  plant  or  animal  we 
interest  ourselves  about  that  one  part  alone 
which  has  special  reference  to  our  own  relations 
with  it,  for  good  or  for  evil.  In  a  strawl)erry,  we 
think  only  of  the  fruit;  in  a  hawthorn,  of  llie 
flowers;  in  a  deadly  niglilsliade,  of  the  poisonous 
berry;   and   in   a   nettle,   of   llie   sting.      Now,   I 


131 


13!2  A  Bkd  of  Xi:ttles 

frankly  admit  at  the  present  moment  that  the 
nettle  sting  has  an  obtrusive  and  unnecessarily 
pungent  way  of  forcing  itself  upon  the  human 
attention;  but  it  does  not  sum  up  the  whole 
life-history  of  the  plant  in  its  own  one  peculiarity 
for  all  that.  The  nettle  exists  for  its  own  sake, 
we  may  be  sure,  and  not  merely  for  the  sake  of 
occasionally  inflicting  a  passing  smart  upon  the 
meddlesome  human  fingers. 

However,  the  sting  itself,  viewed  philo- 
sophically, is  not  without  decided  interest  of  its 
own.  It  is  one,  and  perhaps  the  most  highly 
developed,  among  the  devices  by  which  plants 
guard  themselves  against  the  attacks  of  animals. 
Weeds  and  shrubs  with  juicy,  tender  leaves  are 
very  apt  to  be  eaten  down  by  rabbits,  cows, 
donkeys  and  other  herbivores.  But  if  any 
individuals  among  such  species  happen  to  show 
any  tendency  to  the  development  of  any  un- 
pleasant habit,  which  prevents  the  herbivores 
from  eating  them,  then  those  particular  indi- 
viduals will  of  course  be  spared  when  their 
neighbors  are  eaten,  and  will  establish  a  new 
and  specially  protected  variety  in  the  course  of 
successive  generations.  It  does  not  matter  what 
the  peculiarity  may  be,  provided  only  it  in  any 
way  deters  animals  from  eating  the  plant.  In 
the  arum,  a  violently  acrid  juice  is  secreted  in 
the  leaves,  so  as  to  burn  the  mouth  of  the  ag- 
gressor. In  the  dandelion  and  wild  lettuces,  the 
juice  is  merely  bitter.  In  houndstongue  and 
catmint  it  has  a  nauseous  taste.  Then  again,  in 
the  hawthorn  and  the  ])lackthorn,  some  of  the 


A  Bed  of  Nettles  133 

shorter  branches  have  developed  into  stout, 
sharp  spines,  which  tear  the  skin  of  would-be 
assailants.  In  the  brambles,  the  hairs  on  the 
stem  have  thickened  into  pointed  prickles,  which 
answer  the  same  purpose  as  the  spines  of  their 
neighbors.  In  the  thistles,  the  gorse  and  the 
holly,  once  more,  it  is  the  angles  of  the  leaves 
themselves,  which  have  grown  into  needle-like 
points  so  as  to  deter  animals  from  browsing  upon 
them.  But  the  nettle  probably  carries  the  same 
tendency  to  the  furthest  possible  limit.  Not 
content  with  mere  defense,  it  is  to  some  extent 
actively  aggressive.  The  hairs  which  clothe  it 
have  become  filled  with  a  poisonous,  irritating 
juice,  and  when  any  herbivore  thrusts  his  tender 
nose  into  the  midst  of  a  clump,  the  sharp  points 
pierce  his  naked  skin,  the  liquid  gets  into  his 
veins  in  the  very  neighborhood  of  the  most 
sensitive  nerves,  and  the  poor  creature  receives 
at  once  a  lifelong  warning  against  attacking 
nettles  in  future. 

The  way  in  which  so  curious  a  device  has 
grown  up  is  not,  it  seems  to  me,  very  difficult  to 
guess.  Many  plants  are  armed  with  small  sharp 
hairs  which  act  as  a  protection  to  them  against 
the  incursions  of  ants  and  other  destructive 
insects.  These  hairs  are  often  enough  more  or 
less  glandular  in  structure,  and  therefore  liable 
to  contain  various  waste  products  of  the  plant. 
Suppose  one  of  these  waste  products  in  the 
ancestors  of  the  nettle  to  be  at  first  slightly 
pungent,  by  accident,  as  it  were,  then  it  would 
i-xercise  a  slightly  deterrent  effect  upon  nettle- 

-'.  IX.- 10. 


134  A  Bed  OF  I^ettles 

eating  animals.  The  more  stinging  it  grew,  the 
more  effectual  would  the  protection  be;  and  as 
in  each  generation  the  least  protected  plants 
would  get  eaten  down,  while  the  more  protected 
were  spared,  the  tendency  would  be  for  the  juice 
to  grow  more  and  more  stinging  till  at  last  it 
reached  the  present  high  point  of  development. 
It  is  noticeable,  too,  that  in  our  warrens  and  wild 
places,  most  of  the  plants  are  thus  more  or  less 
protected  in  one  way  or  another  from  the  attacks 
of  animals.  These  neglected  spots  are  over- 
grown with  gorse,  brambles,  nettles,  blackthorn, 
and  mullein,  as  well  as  with  the  bitter  spurges, 
and  the  stringy  inedible  bracken.  So,  too,  while 
in  our  meadows  we  purposely  propagate  tender 
fodder  plants,  like  grasses  and  clovers,  we  find  on 
the  margins  of  our  pastures  and  by  our  road- 
sides only  protected  species,  such  as  thistles, 
houndstongue,  cuckoo-pint,  charlock,  nettles 
(once  more),  and  ti^orn  bushes.  The  cattle  or 
the  rabbits  eat  down  at  once  all  juicy  and  succu- 
lent plants,  leaving  only  these  nauseous  or 
prickly  kinds,  together  with  such  stringy  and 
innutritions  weeds  as  chervil,  plantain,  and 
burdock.  Here  we  see  the  mechanism  of  natural 
selection  at  work  under  our  very  eyes. 

But  the  sting  certainly  does  not  exhaust  the 
whole  philosophy  of  the  nettle.  Look,  for  ex- 
ample, at  the  stem  and  leaves.  The  nettle  has 
found  its  chance  in  life,  its  one  fitting  vacancy, 
among  the  ditches  and  waste-places  by  roadsides 
or  near  cottages;  and  it  has  laid  itself  out  for 
the  circumstances  in  which  it  lives.     Its  near 


A  Bed  of  Nettles  135 

•relative,  the  hop,  is  a  twisting  cHmber;  its 
southern  cousins,  the  fig  and  the  mulberry,  are 
tall  and  spreading  trees.  But  the  nettle  has 
made  itself  a  niche  in  nature  along  the  bare 
patches  which  diversify  human  cultivation;  and 
it  has  adapted  its  stem  and  leaves  to  the  station 
in  life  where  it  has  pleased  Providence  to  place 
it.  Plants  like  the  dock,  the  burdock,  and  the 
rhubarb,  which  lift  their  leaves  straight  above 
the  ground,  from  large  subterranean  reservoirs 
of  material,  have  usually  big,  broad,  undivided 
leaves,  that  overshadow  all  beneath  them,  and 
push  boldly  out  on  every  side  to  drink  in  the  air 
and  the  sunlight.  On  the  other  hand,  regular 
hedgerow  plants,  like  cleavers,  chervil,  herb 
Robert,  milfoil,  and  most  ferns,  which  grow  in 
the  tangled  shady  undermath  of  the  bank  and 
thickets,  have  usually  slender,  bladelike,  much- 
divided  leaves,  all  split  up  into  little  long  narrow 
pushing  segments,  because  they  cannot  get 
sunlight  and  air  enough  to  build  up  a  single 
large  respectable  rounded  leaf. 

The  nettle  is  just  halfway  between  these  two 
extremes.  It  does  not  grow  out  broad  and 
solitary  like  the  burdock,  nor  does  it  creep  under 
the  hedges  like  the  little  much-divided  wayside 
weeds;  but  it  springs  up  erect  in  tall,  thick, 
luxuriant  clumps,  growing  close  together,  each 
stem  fringed  with  a  considerable  number  of 
moderate-sized,  heart-shaped,  toothed  and 
pointed  leaves.  Such  leaves  have  just  room 
enough  to  expand  and  to  extract  from  the  air  all 
the  carbon  they  need  for  their  growth,  without 


136  A  Bed  of  Nettles 

encroaching  upon  one  another's  food  supply  (for 
it  must  always  be  borne  in  mind  that  leaves 
grow  out  of  the  air,  not,  as  most  people  fancy, 
out  of  the  ground) ,  and  so  without  the  consequent 
necessity  for  dividing  up  into  little  separate 
narrow  segments.  Accordingly,  this  type  of 
leaf  is  very  common  among  all  those  plants  which 
spring  up  beside  the  hedgerows  in  the  same  erect 
shrubby  manner  as  the  nettles. 

Then,  again,  there  is  the  flower  of  the  nettle, 
which  in  most  plants  is  so  much  the  most  con- 
spicuous part  of  all.  Yet  in  this  particular  plant 
it  is  so  unobtrusive  that  most  people  never  notice 
its  existence  in  any  way.  That  is  because  the 
nettle  is  wind-fertilized,  and  so  does  not  need 
bright  and  attractive  petals.  Here  are  the 
flowering  branches,  a  lot  of  little  forked  antler- 
like  spikes,  sticking  out  at  right  angles  from  the 
stem,  and  half  concealed  by  the  leaves  of  the 
row  above  them.  Like  many  other  wind- 
fertilized  flowers,  the  stamens  and  pistils  are 
collected  on  different  plants — a  plan  which 
absolutely  insures  cross-fertilization,  without  the 
aid  of  the  insects.  I  pick  one  of  the  stamen- 
bearing  clusters,  and  can  see  that  it  is  made  up 
of  small  separate  green  blossoms,  each  with 
four  tiny  leaf-hke  petals,  and  with  four  stamens 
doubled  up  in  the  center.  I  touch  the  flowers 
with  the  tip  of  my  pocket  knife,  and  in  a  second 
the  four  stamens  jump  out  elastically  as  if  alive, 
and  dust  the  white  pollen  all  over  my  fingers. 
Why  should  they  act  like  this  ?  Such  tricks  are 
not  uncommon  in  bee-fertilized  flowers,  because 


A  Bed  of  Nettles  1S7 

they  insure  the  pollen  being  shed  only  when  a 
bee  thrusts  his  head  into  the  blossom;  but  what 
use  can  this  de\dce  be  to  the  wind-fertilized 
nettle  ?  I  think  the  object  is  somewhat  after 
this  fashion.  If  the  pollen  were  shed  during 
perfectly  calm  weather,  it  would  simply  fall  upon 
the  ground,  without  reaching  the  pistils  of 
neighboring  plants  at  all.  But  by  having  the 
stamens  thus  doubled  up,  with  elastic  stalks,  it 
happens  that  even  when  ripe  they  do  not  open 
and  shed  the  pollen  unless  upon  the  occurrence 
of  some  slight  concussion.  This  concussion  is 
given  when  the  stems  are  waved  about  by  the 
wind;  and  then  the  pollen  is  shaken  out  under 
circumstances  which  give  it  the  best  chance  of 
reaching  the  pistil. 

Finally,  there  is  the  question  of  fruit.  In  the 
fig  and  the  mulberry  the  fruit  is  succulent,  and 
depends  for  its  dispersion  upon  birds  and  ani- 
mals. In  the  nettle  it  takes  the  form  of  a  tiny, 
seed-like,  flattened  nut.  ^Miy  is  this,  again? 
One  might  as  well  ask,  why  are  we  not  all  Lord 
Chancellors  or  Presidents  of  the  Royal  Academy. 
Each  plant  and  each  animal  makes  the  best  of 
such  talents  as  it  has  got,  and  gets  on  by  their 
aid;  but  all  have  not  the  same  talents.  One 
survives  by  dint  of  its  prickles;  another  by  dint 
of  its  attractive  flowers;  a  third  by  its  sweet  fruit; 
a  fourth  by  its  hard  nut-shell.  As  regards 
stings,  the  nettle  is  one  of  the  best  protected 
plants;  as  regards  flower  and  fruit,  it  is  merely 
one  of  the  ruck.  Every  plant  can  only  take 
advantage  of  any  stray  chances  it  happens  to 


1S8 


A  Bed  of  Nettles 


possess;  and  the  same  advantageous  tendencies 
do  not  show  themselves  in  all  alike.  It  is  said 
that  once  a  certain  American,  hearing  of  the 
sums  which  Canova  got  for  his  handicraft,  took 
his  son  to  the  great  man's  studio,  and  inquired 
how  much  he  would  ask  to  make  the  boy  a 
sculptor.  But  there  is  no  evidence  to  show  that 
that  aspiring  youth  ever  produced  an  Aphrodite 
or  a  Discobolus. 


s  y 


WASHINGTON  IRVING 


§^URING  the  course  of  the  revolu- 

^  tion    that    changed    the    British 

colonies    in     America     into    the 


United  States,  there  was  born 
in  the  city  of  New  York  the  first 
great  writer  of  this  new  nation, 
Washington  Irving.  The  parents 
of  Irving  had  been  in  America  but  twenty  years, 
the  father  being  Scotch  and  the  mother  EngHsh, 
yet  they  s}Tnpathized  so  fully  with  the  colonists 
that  they  spent  much  of  their  time  and  means 
in  caring  for  the  soldiers  held  as  prisoners  by 
the  British. 

The  mother  was  unusually  warm-hearted  and 
charitable,  but  the  father,  though  a  kind  and 
conscientious  man,  was  very  strict,  especially 
in  dealing  with  his  children.  He  seemed  to 
feel  that  nearly  every  kind  of  amusement  that 
young  people  delighted  in  was  sinful,  and  he 
held  up  before  his  children  such  sober  ways  of 
living  that  Washington  at  least  came  to  think 
that  everything  pleasant  was  wicked.  No  amount 
of  sternness,  however,  could  keep  the  five  boys 
of  the  family  and  their  three  sisters  wholly  out 
of  mischief,  nor  hinder  them  from  having  many 
a  harmless  good  time. 

After  spending  two  years  in  a  primary  school, 
Washington  was  sent  when  six  years  old  to  a 
school  kept  by  a  soldier  who  had  fought  in  the 

139 


140  Washington  Irving 

Revolution,  a  man  who  dealt  most  harshly  with 
disorderly  pupils.  Though  Washington  was 
always  breaking  rules,  he  was  so  honest  in  ad- 
mitting the  wrong  done  that  the  teacher  had  a 
particular  Irking  for  him,  and  would  call  him 
by  the  envied  title  of  "General."  To  bear  this 
title,  as  well  as  the  name  of  the  foremost  Ameri- 
can of  that  time,  and  to  have  received  a  blessing 
from  the  great  Washington  himself,  was  honor 
enough  for  one  boy. 

Though  it  was  not  till  several  years  later  that 
he  first  went  to  the  theater,  yet  when  he  was 
about  ten  he  was  fond  of  acting  the  part  of  some 
warrior  knight  of  whom  he  had  read,  and  would 
challenge  one  of  his  companions  to  a  duel  in 
the  yard,  where  they  would  fight  desperately 
with  wooden  swords.  About  this  time,  too,  he 
came  upon  Robinson  Crusoe  and  Sindbad  the 
Sailor^  and  thus  was  awakened  a  great  delight 
in  books  of  travel  and  adventure.  Most  pleasing 
of  all  was  The  World  Displayed,  a  series  of 
volumes  in  which  one  could  read  of  voyages  and 
land  journeys  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  the 
world.  How  exciting  it  was  to  scan  hastily  the 
pages  of  these  books  under  cover  of  his  desk  at 
school,  or  to  read  them  in  bed  at  night  by  the 
light  of  candles  smuggled  into  his  room!  It  is 
no  wonder  that  he  grew  to  wish  with  all  his  heart 
that  he  could  go  to  sea,  and  that  he  haunted 
the  wharves  watching  the  out-going  vessels. 

\Mien  only  fifteen  years  old,  Washington 
finished  his  schooling.  In  later  life  he  was  al- 
ways very  sorry  that  he  had  not  been  sent  to  col- 


WA.SUINGTON    IRVIXQ 


Washington  Irving  141 

lege  at  this  time.  Within  a  year  he  began  the 
study  of  law,  but  he  went  at  his  work  in  such  a 
half-hearted  way  that  although  he  passed  his 
examination  in  1806,  he  was  really  ver}^  poorly 
fitted  for  his  calling. 

The  last  two  years  of  this  time  had  been  passed 
in  Europe,  where  he  had  been  sent  to  recoyer 
his  health;  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  thoughts 
of  his  legal  studies  troubled  young  Irving  but 
little  during  this  interesting  trip.  If  as  a  boy 
he  had  been  thrilled  merely  in  reading  of  voyages 
and  travels,  what  was  now  his  pleasure  in  jour- 
neying through  one  strange  scene  after  another 
and  meeting;  with  such  exciting;  adventures  as 
that  which  befell  him  on  the  way  from  Genoa 
to  Sicily,  when  the  vessel  on  which  he  was  sailing- 
was  boarded  by  pirates.  On  this  occasion,  as 
he  could  translate  the  questions  of  the  attacking 
party  and  could  answer  these  men  in  their  own 
tongue,  he  was  forced  to  go  on  the  pirate  shij), 
among  an  evil-looking  crew,  armed  with  stilettos, 
cutlasses  and  pistols,  and  act  as  interpreter 
before  the  captain.  As  it  turned  out  that  the 
booty  was  too  small  to  be  worth  taking,  Irving 
and  his  companions  escaped  without  hurt. 
In  the  course  of  his  further  travels  he  found 
especial  delight  in  the  works  of  art  at  Rome, 
and  in  attending  the  theater  and  opera  in  Paris 
and  London. 

In  Januar}',  1807,  several  months  after  his 
return  to  America,  Irying,  with  one  of  his 
brothers  and  a  friend,  began  to  publish  Salma- 
gundit  a  magazine  containing  humorous  articles 


142  Washington  Irving 

on  the  social  life  of  New  York.  This  became 
so  popidar  that  twenty  numbers  were  issued. 
Having  found  so  much  of  interest  in  the  Hfe  of 
his  native  city,  Irving  next  wrote  a  comic 
History  of  New  York,  by  Diedrich  Knicker- 
bocker, deaHng  with  the  early  period  when  the 
city  was  ruled  by  the  Dutch.  The  novel  way 
in  which  this  work  was  announced  would  do 
credit  to  the  most  clever  advertiser.  About 
six  weeks  before  the  book  was  published,  ap- 
peared this  notice  in  the  Evening  Post: 

^^Distressing. 

"Left  his  lodgings  some  time  since,  and  has 
not  since  been  heard  of,  a  small  elderly  gentle- 
man, dressed  in  an  old  black  coat  and  cocked  hat, 
by  the  name  of  Knickerbocker.  iVs  there  are 
some  reasons  for  believing  he  is  not  entirely  in 
his  right  mind,  and  as  great  anxiety  is  enter- 
tained about  him,  any  information  concerning 
him  left  either  at  the  Columbian  Hotel,  Mul- 
berry Street,  or  at  the  office  of  this  paper,  will 
be  thanJifully  received. 

*'P.  S. — Printers  of  newspapers  would  be 
aiding  the  cause  of  humanity  by  giving  an  in- 
sertion to  the  above. — Oct.  25." 

Almost  two  weeks  later  a  notice  signed  A 
Traveler,  told  that  the  old  man  had  been  seen 
resting  by  the  road  over  w^hich  the  Albany 
stage  coach  passed.  Then  in  ten  days  fol- 
lowed this  amusing  letter  to  the  editor  of  the 
Post: 


Washington  Irving  143 

"Sir: — You  have  been  good  enough  to  publish 
in  your  paper  a  paragraph  about  Mr.  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker,  who  was  missing  so  strangely 
from  his  lodgings  some  time  since.  Nothing 
satisfactory  has  been  heard  of  the  old  gentleman 
since;  but  a  very  curious  kind  of  a  written  hook  has 
been  found  in  his  room  in  his  own  handwriting. 
Now  I  wish  you  to  notice  him,  if  he  is  still  alive, 
that  if  he  does  not  return  and  pay  off  his  bill  for 
board  and  lodging,  I  shall  have  to  dispose  of  his 
Book,  to  satisfy  me  for  the  same." 

Needless  to  say,  the  book  was  issued  in  due 
time,  and  it  was  warmly  welcomed  not  only  in  the 
United  States  but  in  England. 

This  year  of  great  literary  success  was  also 
one  of  the  saddest  in  Irving's  life.  He  had  be- 
come deeply  attached  to  Matilda  Hoffman, 
daughter  of  one  of  the  lawyers  under  whom  he 
had  studied,  and  was  looking  forward  to  the 
time  when  she  should  become  his  w^fe.  The 
death  of  the  young  girl  in  1809  caused  a  grief  so 
deep  that  Irving  almost  never  spoke  of  it.  He 
remained  true  to  the  memory  of  this  early  love 
throughout  his  life,  and  never  married. 

By  this  time  it  had  become  plain  that  Irving 
could  write  with  far  more  efl'ect  than  he  could 
ever  hope  to  practice  law.  Yet  the  idea  of 
using  his  pen  in  order  to  earn  a  living,  not  merely 
for  his  own  amusement,  was  so  distasteful  to 
him  that  he  put  aside  the  thought  of  a  literary 
career.  Had  he  not  had  two  kind  and  indulgent 
brothers,   it   might   have   gone   hard   with   him 


144  Washington  Irving 

at  this  time;  but  he  was  given  a  one-fifth  share 
in  their  business,  and  being  only  a  silent  partner, 
was  allowed  to  spend  his  time  in  w^hatever  ways 
he  pleased. 

In  1815,  however,  it  became  necessary  for 
him  to  take  his  brother  Peter's  place  for  a  time 
at  the  head  of  that  part  of  the  business  which 
was  carried  on  in  Liverpool.  Though  he  was  a 
loyal  American,  he  found  England  so  much  to 
his  liking  that  there  is  no  telling  how  long  after  his 
brother's  recovery  he  would  have  kept  on  living 
in  his  half-idle  way  in  his  pleasant  surroundings, 
had  not  the  business  in  which  he  was  interested 
failed  in  1818.  Thus  roused  to  efl'ort,  he  began 
publishing  in  1819  the  highly  popular  Sketch 
Book,  by  Geoffrey  Crayon,  a  series  of  stories  and 
essays  in  the  first  number  of  which  appeared, 
with  others,  Rip  Van  Winkle.  The  Legend  of 
Sleepy  Hollow  was  contained  in  a  later  issue. 
Bracehridge  Hall  and  Tales  of  a  Traveller,  of 
the  same  nature  as  the  Sketch  Book,  followec) 
soon  afterward,  all  three  being  sent  to  America 
and  being  published  also  in  England. 

A  new  and  more  serious  kind  of  work  opened 
before  Irving  in  1826  when  he  was  invited  to 
^Madrid  by  the  United  States  minister,  to  make 
a  translation  of  Xavarrete's  Voyages  of  Colum- 
bus. Instead  of  translating,  however,  he  wrote 
a  valuable  original  work  entitled  the  Life  and 
Voyages  of  Christopher  Columbus.  Thus  was 
awakened  his  deep  interest  in  the  romantic 
history  and  legends  of  Spain.  He  traveled  about 
the  country',   stajing  for  several   weeks  in  the 


Washington  Irving  145 

celebrated  palace  of  the  Alhambra,  studied  rare 
old  books,  and  as  a  result  produced  several  other 
works  upon  Spanish  subjects.  Of  these  The 
Conquest  of  Granada  was  written  before  he  left 
Spain  and  The  Alhambra  was  completed  in 
England  after  his  return  in  1829  to  fill  the  office 
of  secretary  of  legation.  This  last-named 
work,  while  highly  entertaining,  is  in  many 
places  as  beautiful  as  poetry. 

In  1824  Irving  had  written  to  a  friend  in 
America  concerning  New  York:  "There  is  a 
charm  about  that  little  spot  of  earth;  that 
beautiful  city  and  its  environs,  that  has  a  perfect 
spell  over  my  imagination.  The  bay,  the  rivers 
and  their  wald  and  woody  shores,  the  haunts 
of  my  boyhood,  both  on  land  and  water,  abso- 
lutely have  a  witchery  over  my  mind.  I  thank 
God  for  my  having  been  born  in  so  beautiful 
a  place  among  such  beautiful  scenery;  I  am 
convinced  I  owe  a  vast  deal  of  what  is  good  and 
pleasant  in  my  nature  to  the  circumstance." 
It  was  not,  however,  until  1832  that  he  was 
able  to  return  to  his  much-loved  birthplace. 
Then,  after  seventeen  years'  absence,  during 
which  he  had  become  a  very  famous  writer,  he 
was  welcomed  with  the  warmest  greetings  and 
the  highest  honors  of  his  townspeople. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  made  a  tour  through 
the  far  West, — through  the  wilds  of  Missouri  and 
Arkansas.  From  a  point  in  the  latter  region  he 
wrote  of  his  party  as  "depending  upon  game, 
such  as  deer,  elk,  bear,  for  food,  encamping  on 
the  borders  of  brooks,  and  sleeping  in  the  open 


146  Washington  Irving 

air  under  trees,  with  outposts  stationed  to  guard 
us  against  any  surprise  by  the  Indians."  The 
beautiful  scenery  and  exciting  events  that  marked 
this  trip  were  later  told  of  in  his  Tour  on  the 
Prairies. 

Having  been  a  wanderer  for  a  good  many 
years,  Irving  now  began  to  wish  for  a  home. 
Accordingly  he  bought  a  little  estate  near  Tarry- 
town  on  the  Hudson  River,  and  had  the  cottage 
on  this  land  made  over  into  "a  little  nookery 
somewhat  in  the  Dutch  style,  quaint,  but  un- 
pretending." Here  he  gathered  about  him  a 
brother's  family  and  other  relatives,  and  settled 
down  to  a  quiet,  happy,  industrious  life.  In 
the  first  years  spent  in  this  pleasant  home  he 
contributed  articles  to  the  Knickerbocker  Maga- 
zine, later  collected  and  published  under  the 
title  of  Wolferfs  Roost,  and  wrote  Abbotsford 
and  Newstead  Abbey,  now  part  of  the  volume 
of  Crayon  Miscellany. 

So  smoothly  did  the  home  life  at  Sunnyside 
flow  along  that  Irving  was  none  too  well  pleased 
to  separate  himself  from  it  in  1842  when  ap- 
pointed minister  of  the  United  States  to  Spain. 
Nevertheless,  he  looked  upon  this  event  as  the 
''crowning  hour"  of  his  life. 

During  the  thirteen  years  that  remained  to  him 
after  returning  to  Sunnyside  in  1846,  he  produced 
the  Life  of  Mahomet  and  his  Successors,  a  Life 
of  Goldsmith,  an  author  whom  he  especially 
admired  and  appreciated,  and  a  biography  of 
his  celebrated  namesake,  which,  though  entitled 
a   Life  of  Washington,  is  nothing  less  than  a 


Washington  Irving  147 

history  of  the  Revohition.  In  the  very  year 
this  last  great  work  was  completed,  Irving  died, 
surrounded  by  the  household  to  whom  he  had 
become  so  much  endeared  (November  28,  1859). 
In  his  writings  Washington  Irving  has  shown 
himself  so  gentle  and  unpretentious  and  so  large- 
hearted,  that  his  words  concerning  Oliver  Gold- 
smith seem  to  apply  with  equal  fitness  to  himself : 
"There  are  few  writers  for  whom  the  reader 
feels  such  personal  kindness."  These  same 
qualities  were  revealed  also  day  by  day  in  the 
smallest  incidents  of  his  life.  Perhaps  they  were 
never  more  simply  illustrated  than  on  the  occa- 
sion when  he  was  traveling  in  a  railway  car 
behind  a  woman  with  two  small  children  and  a 
baby  who  was  being  constantly  disturbed  by 
the  older  children's  efforts  to  climb  to  a  seat  by 
the  window.  Having  taken  in  the  situation, 
Irving  began  lifting  first  one  and  then  the  other 
of  the  little  ones  into  his  lap,  allowing  each  just 
three  minutes  at  the  window,  and  this  he  con- 
tinued until  they  had  had  enough,  and  the  grate- 
ful mother  had  enjoyed  a  needed  rest.  Appar- 
ently he  bore  ill-will  toward  no  one,  and  his 
ever-ready  humor  helped  him  to  view  the  lives 
of  others  without  harshness.  Thus  it  is  not  only 
as  a  great  literary  artist,  but  as  an  American  of 
the  most  worthy  type,  that  he  has  won  lasting 
honor. 


TIIE    ECNICKERBOCKER    HISTORY    OF 
NEW  YORK 

WASHINGTON  IRVINO 
INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

HISTORY  of  New  York  by 
Diedrick  Knickerbocker  was  pub- 
lished in  1809.  Nearly  forty  years 
later  Washington  Irving,  the  real 
author,  says  it  was  his  purpose  in 
the  history  to  embody  the  tradi- 
tions of  New  York  in  an  amusing  form,  to  illus- 
trate its  local  humors,  customs  and  peculiarities 
in  a  whimsical  narrative,  which  should  help  to 
hind  the  heart  of  the  native  inhabitant  to  his 
home.     He  adds: 

"In  this  I  have  reason  to  believe  I  have  in 
some  measure  succeeded.  Before  the  appearance 
of  my  work  the  popular  traditions  of  our  city 
were  unrecorded;  the  peculiar  and  racy  customs 
and  usages  derived  from  our  Dutch  progenitors 
were  unnoticed,  or  regarded  with  indifference,  or 
adverted  to  with  a  sneer.  Now  they  form  a 
convivial  currency,  and  are  brought  forward 
on  all  occasions;  they  link  our  whole  community 
together  in  good  humor  and  good  fellowship; 
they  are  the  rallying-points  of  home  feeling,  the 
seasoning  of  our  civic  festivities,  the  staple  of 
local  tales  and  local  pleasantries;  and  are  so 
liarped  upon  by  our  writers  of  popular  fiction 


KInickerbocker  History  149 

that  I  find  myself  almost  crowded  off  the  legend- 
ary ground  which  I  was  the  first  to  explore  by 
the  host  who  have  followed  in  my  footsteps. 

"I  dwell  on  this  head  because,  at  the  first 
appearance  of  my  work,  its  aim  and  drift  were 
misapprehended  by  some  of  the  descendants 
of  the  Dutch  worthies,  and  because  I  under- 
stand that  now  and  then  one  may  still  be  found 
to  regard  it  with  a  captious  eye.  The  far  greater 
part,  however,  I  have  reason  to  flatter  myself, 
receive  my  good-humored  picturings  in  the  same 
temper  in  which  they  were  executed;  and  when  I 
find,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  forty  years,  this  hap- 
hazard production  of  my  youth  still  cherished 
among  them;  when  I  find  its  very  name  become 
a  "household  word"  and  used  to  give  the  home 
stamp  to  everything  recommended  for  populai 
acceptation,  such  as  Knickerbocker  societies; 
Knickerbocker  insurance  companies;  Knicker- 
bocker steamboats;  Knickerbocker  omnibuses; 
Knickerbocker  bread;  and  Knickerbocker  ice: 
and  when  I  find  New  Yorkers  of  Dutch  descent 
priding  themselves  upon  being  "genuine  Knick- 
erbockers," I  please  myself  with  the  persuasion 
that  I  have  struck  the  right  chord;  that  my 
dealings  with  the  good  Dutch  times,  and  the 
customs  and  usages  derived  from  them,  are  in 
harmony  with  the  feelings  and  humors  of  my 
townsmen ;  that  I  have  opened  a  vein  of  pleasant 
associations  and  quaint  characteristics  peculiar 
to  my  native  place,  and  which  its  inhabitants 
will  not  willingly  suffer  to  pass  away;  and  that, 
though  other  histories  of  New  York  may  appear 
Vol,  IX.— n. 


150  Kn'ickfhbockfr  History 

of  higher  claims  to  learned  acceptation,  and  may 
take  their  dignified  and  appropriate  rank  in  the 
family  library*.  Knickerbocker's  history  will  still 
be  received  with  good-humored  indulgence,  and 
be  thumbed  and  chuckled  over  by  the  family 
fireside." 

To  give  color  to  his  fancy,  Irving  created  the 
fanciful  character  of  Diediich  Knickerbocker, 
whom  he  describes  as  follows: 

"He  was  a  small,  brisk-looking  old  gentleman, 
dressed  in  a  rusty  black  coat  and  a  pair  of  olive 
velvet  breeches  and  a  small  cocked  hat.  He  had 
a  few  gray  hairs  plaited  and  clubbed  behind. 
The  only  piece  of  finery  which  he  bore  about 
him  was  a  bright  pair  of  square  silver  shoe 
buckles,  and  all  his  baggage  was  contained  in  a 
pair  of  saddle  bags  which  he  carried  under  his 
arm.*' 

He  was  "a  verv  worth v  good  sort  of  an  old 
gentleman,  though  a  little  queer  in  his  ways.  He 
would  keep  in  his  room  for  days  together,  and 
if  any  of  the  children  cried  or  made  a  noise  about 
his  door  he  would  bounce  out  in  a  great  passion, 
with  his  hands  full  of  papers  and  say  something 
about  'deranging  his  ideas'." 

According  to  the  tale  which  Irving  invented 
he  resided  for  some  time  at  the  Independent 
Columbian  Hotel,  and  from  this  place  he  dis- 
appeared, leaving  his  tills  unpaid.  However, 
in  the  sad  "  '  -  which  he  didn't  take  from  his 
room  the  „„  — -ri  found  the  manuscript  of  the 
History  of  \ev:  York\  and  published  it  in  order 
to  secure  pay  for  the  old  gentleman's  board. 


KS'ICKEEBOCKER    HiSTOET  151 

The  book  met  with  marked  success,  and 
shortly  after  its  publication  a  large  part  of  New 
York  was  laughing  at  its  humorous  details,  and 
Irving's  estimate  of  its  popularity  as  given  above 
was  modest  indeed. 

The  histoiy-  consists  of  eight  books,  the  first 
of  which,  in  irony  of  some  histories  which  had 
previously  been  published,  gives  a  description  of 
the  world  and  a  histon-  of  its  creation,  and  in 
brief,  the  story  of  Xoah  and  the  discovery  of 
America,  and  a  dissertation  on  the  origin  of  the 
American  Indian. 

The  second  book  contains  an  account  of 
Hudson's  discovery  of  the  river  that  bears  his 
name  and  of  the  settlement  of  Xew  Amsterdam. 

A  book  is  given  to  each  of  the  first  two  Dutch 
governors,  and  three  books  to  the  rule  of  Peter 
Stuyvesant.  The  history  then  terminates  with 
the  surrender  of  Xew  Amsterdam  to  the  British. 

The  selections  which  appear  here  have  been 
chosen  for  their  rich  humor  rather  than  for  their 
historical  value,  although,  in  his  quaint  way. 
Irving  gives  us  a  picture  of  the  c^ltW  Dutch 
settlers  that  is  in  many  respects  remarkably  true 
to  life.  His  exaggerations  are  usually  so  notice- 
able that  it  is  not  difficult  to  separate  truth  from 
fiction. 


152  KxiCKtRBOCKER    HlSTORY 

THE    FOUNDING    OF   NEW    AJVISTERDAM 

T  was  some  three  or  four  years  after 
the  return  of  the  immortal  Ilendrick 
that  a  crew  of  honest,  Low  Dutch 
colonists  set  sail  from  the  city  of 
Amsterdam  for  the  shores  of 
America. 

The  ship  in  which  these  illustrious 
adventurers  set  sail  was  called  the  Goede  Vrouic, 
or  Good  Woman,  in  compliment  to  the  \\iie  of 
the  president  of  the  West  India  Company,  who 
was  allowed  by  ever^'body  (except  her  husband) 
to  be  a  sweet-tempered  lady.  It  was  in  truth  a 
most  gallant  vessel,  of  the  most  approved  Dutch 
construction,  and  made  by  the  ablest  ship  car- 
penters of  Amsterdam,  who  it  is  well  known 
always  model  their  ships  after  the  fair  forms  of 
their  countrj'women.  Accordingly,  it  had  one 
hundred  feet  in  the  beam,  one  hundred  feet  in 
the  keel,  and  one  hundred  feet  from  the  bottom 
of  the  stern-post  to  the  tafferel. 

The  architect,  who  was  somewhat  of  a  religious 
man,  far  from  decorating  the  ship  with  pagan 
idols,  such  as  Jupiter,  Neptune,  or  Hercules 
(which  heathenish  abominations  I  have  no 
doubt  occasion  the  misfortunes  and  shipwreck 
of  many  a  noble  vessel) — he,  I  say,  on  the  con- 
trary, did  laudably  erect  for  a  head  a  goodly 
image  of  Saint  Nicholas,  equipped  with  a  low, 
broad-brimmed  hat,  a  huge  pair  of  Flemish 
trunk  hose,  and  a  pipe  that  reached  to  the  end  of 
the   bow-sprit.     Thus   gallantly   furnished,    the 


Knickerbocker  History  153 

stanch  ship  floated  sideways,  like  a  majestic* 
goose,  out  of  the  harbor  of  the  great  city  of 
Amsterdam,  and  all  the  bells  that  were  not  other- 
wise engaged  rang  a  triple  bobmajor  on  the 
joyful  occasion. 

The  voyage  was  uncommonly  prosperous,  for, 
being  under  the  especial  care  of  the  ever-revered 
Saint  Nicholas,  the  Goede  Vrouw  seemed  to  be 
endowed  with  qualities  unknown  to  common 
vessels.  Thus  she  made  as  much  leeway  as 
headway,  could  get  along  very  nearly  as  fast  "U'ith 
the  wind  ahead  as  when  it  was  apoop,  and  was 
particularly  great  in  a  calm;  in  consequence  of 
which  singular  advantages  she  made  out  to  ac- 
complish her  voyage  in  a  very  few  months,  and 
came  to  anchor  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  a 
little  to  the  east  of  Gibbet  Island. 

Here,  lifting  up  their  eyes,  they  beheld,  on 
what  is  at  present  called  the  Jersey  shore,  a  small 
Indian  village,  pleasantly  embowered  in  a  grove 
of  spreading  elms,  and  the  natives  all  collected 
on  the  beach  gazing  in  stupid  admiration  at  the 
Goede  Vrouw.  A  boat  was  immediately  dis- 
])atched  to  enter  into  a  treaty  with  them,  and, 
approaching  the  shore,  hailed  them  through  a 
trumpet  in  the  most  friendly  terms;  but  so 
horribly  confounded  were  these  poor  savages  at 
Ihe  tremendous  and  uncouth  sound  of  the  Low 
JJ)utch  language  that  they  one  and  all  took  to 
their  heels,  and  scampered  over  the  Bergen 
hills;  nor  did  they  stop  until  they  had  buried 
themselves,  head  and  ears,  in  the  marshes  on  the 
other  side,  where  they  all  miserably  perished  to 


154  Knickerbocker  History 

a  man,  and  their  bones,  being  collected  and 
decently  covered  by  the  Tammany  Society  of 
that  day,  formed  that  singular  mound  called 
Rattlesnake  Hill  which  rises  out  of  the  center 
of  the  salt  marshes  a  little  to  the  east  of  the 
Newark  causeway. 

Animated  by  this  unlooked-for  victory,  our 
valiant  heroes  sprang  ashore  in  triumph,  took 
possession  of  the  soil  as  conquerors  in  the  name 
of  their  IliMi  Mightinesses  the  Lords  States 
General,  and,  marching  fearlessly  forward,  car- 
ried the  village  of  Communipaw  by  storm,  not- 
withstanding that  it  was  \igorously  defended  by 
some  half  a  score  of  old  squaws  and  pappooses. 
On  looldng  about  them  they  w^ere  so  transported 
M'ith  the  excellencies  of  the  place  that  they  had 
very  little  doubt  the  blessed  Saint  Nicholas  had 
guided  them  tliither  as  the  very  spot  whereon 
to  settle  their  colony.  The  softness  of  the  soil 
was  wonderfully  adapted  to  the  driving  of  piles; 
the  swamps  and  marshes  around  them  afforded 
ample  opportunities  for  the  constructing  of 
dykes  and  dams;  the  shallowness  of  the  shore  was 
peculiarly  favorable  to  the  building  of  docks — 
in  a  word  this  spot  abounded  with  all  the  requi- 
sites for  the  foundation  of  a  great  Dutch  city. 
On  making  a  faithful  report,  therefore,  to  the 
crew  of  the  Goede  Vrouw,  they  one  and  all 
determined  that  this  was  the  destined  end  of 
their  voyage.  Accordingly  they  descended  from 
the  Goede  Vrouw,  men,  women,  and  children,  in 
goodly  groups,  as  did  the  animals  of  yore  from 
the  ark,  and  formed  themselves  into  a  thriving 


Knickerbocker  History  155 

settlement,  which  they  called  by  the  Indian 
name  Communipaw. 

The  crew  of  the  Goede  Vrouw  being  soon 
reinforced  by  fresh  importations  from  Holland, 
the  settlement  went  jollily  on,  increasing  in 
magnitude  and  prosperity.  The  neighboring 
Indians  in  a  short  time  became  accustomed  to 
the  uncouth  sound  of  the  Dutch  language,  and 
an  intercourse  gradually  took  place  between 
them  and  the  newcomers. 

A  brisk  trade  for  furs  was  soon  opened :  the 
Dutch  traders  were  scrupulously  honest  in  their 
dealings,  and  purchased  by  weight,  establishing 
it  as  an  invariable  table  of  avoirdupois  that  the 
hand  of  a  Dutchman  weighed  one  pound  and  his 
foot  two  pounds.  It  is  true  the  simple  Indians 
were  often  puzzled  by  the  great  disproportion 
between  bulk  and  weight,  for  let  them  place  a 
bundle  of  furs,  never  so  large,  in  one  scale,  and  a 
Dutchman  put  his  hand  or  foot  in  the  other,  the 
bundle  was  sure  to  kick  the  beam — never  was  a 
package  of  furs  known  to  weigh  more  than  two 
pounds  in  the  market  of  Communipaw! 

The  Dutch  possessions  in  this  part  of  the  globe 
began  now  to  assume  a  very  thriving  appearance, 
and  were  comprehended  under  the  general  title 
of  Nieuw  Nederlandts,  on  account,  as  the  sage 
Vander  Douck  observes,  of  their  great  resem- 
blance to  the  Dutch  Netherlands;  which  indeed 
was  truly  remarkable,  excepting  that  the  former 
were  rugged  and  mountainous,  and  the  latter 
level  and  marshy.  About  this  time  the  tranquil- 
ity of  the  Dutch  colonists  was  doomed  to  suffer 


15G  Knickerbocker  History 

a  temporary  interruption.  In  1614,  Captain 
Sir  Samuel  Argal,  sailing  under  a  commission 
from  Dale,  governor  of  Virginia,  visited  the 
Dutch  settlements  on  Hudson  River  and  de- 
manded their  submission  to  the  English  crown 
and  Virginian  dominion.  To  this  arrogant 
demand,  as  they  were  in  no  condition  to  resist  it, 
they  submitted  for  the  time,  like  discreet  and 
reasonable  men. 

Oloft'e  Van  Kortlandt,  a  personage  who  was 
held  in  great  reverence  among  the  sages  of 
Communipaw  for  the  variety  and  darkness  of 
his  knowledge,  had  originally  been  one  of  a  set 
of  peripatetic  philosophers  who  had  passed  much 
of  their  time  sunning  themselves  on  the  side  of  the 
great  canal  of  Amsterdam  in  Holland,  enjoying, 
like  Diogenes,  a  free  and  unencumbered  estate 
in  sunshine.  His  name  Kortlandt  (Shortland 
or  Lackland)  was  supposed,  like  that  of  the 
illustrious  Jean  Sansterre,  to  indicate  that  he 
had  no  land;  but  he  insisted,  on  the  contrary, 
that  he  had  great  landed  estates  somewhere  in 
Terra  Incognita,  and  he  had  come  out  to  the 
New  World  to  look  after  them.  He  was  the  first 
great  land  speculator  that  we  read  of  in  these 
parts. 

Like  all  land  speculators,  he  was  much  given 
to  dreaming.  Never  did  anything  extraordinary 
happen  to  Communipaw  but  he  declared  that 
he  had  previously  dreamt  it,  being  one  of  those 
infallible  prophets  who  predict  events  after 
they  have  come  to  pass. 

As  yet  his  dreams  and  speculations  had  turned 


Knickerbocker  History  157 

to  little  personal  profit,  and  he  was  as  much  a 
lackland  as  ever.  Still,  he  carried  a  high  head 
in  the  community;  if  his  sugar-loaf  hat  was 
rather  the  worse  for  wear,  he  set  it  off  with  a 
taller  cock's  tail;  if  his  shirt  was  none  of  the  clean- 
est, he  pulled  it  out  the  more  at  the  bosom ;  and  if 
the  tail  of  it  peeped  out  of  a  hole  in  his  breeches, 
it  at  least  proved  that  it  really  had  a  tail  and  was 
not  mere  rufi]e. 

The  worthy  Van  Kortlandt  urged  the  policy 
of  emerging  from  the  swamps  of  Communipaw 
and  seeking  some  more  eligible  site  for  the  seat 
of  empire.  Such,  he  said,  was  the  advice  of  the 
good  Saint  Nicholas,  who  had  appeared  to  him 
in  a  dream  the  night  before,  and  whom  he  had 
known  by  his  broad  hat,  his  long  pipe,  and  the 
resemblance  which  he  bore  to  the  figure  on  the 
bow  of  the  Goede  Vrouw. 

This  perilous  enterprise  was  to  be  conducted 
by  OlofFe  himself,  who  chose  as  lieutenants 
or  coadjutors  Mynheers  Jacobus  Van  Zandt, 
Abraham  Ilardenbroeck,  and  Winant  Ten 
Broeck — three  indubitably  great  men,  but  of 
whose  history,  although  I  have  made  diligent 
inquiry,  I  can  learn  but  little  previous  to  their 
leaving  Holland. 

Had  I  the  benefit  of  mythology  and  classic 
fable,  I  should  have  furnished  the  first  of  the 
trio  with  a  pedigree  equal  to  that  of  the  ])rou(lest 
hero  of  antiquity.  Ilis  name,  Van  Zandt — 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  sand,  or,  in  common 
parlance,  from  the  dirt — gave  reason  to  supj)ose 
that,    like   Triptolemus,   the    Cyclops,    and    the 


158  Knickerbocker  History 

Titans,  he  had  sprung  from  Dame  Terra,  or 
the  earth!  This  supposition  is  strongly  corrob- 
orated by  his  size,  for  it  is  well  known  that  all 
the  progeny  of  mother  earth  were  of  a  gigantic 
stature;  and  Van  Zandt,  we  are  told,  was  a 
tall,  raw-boned  man,  above  six  feet  high,  with 
an  astonishingly  hard  head. 

Of  the  second  of  the  trio  but  faint  accounts 
have  reached  to  this  time,  which  mention  that 
he  was  a  sturdy,  obstinate,  worrying,  bustling 
little  man,  and,  from  being  usually  equipped 
in  an  old  pair  of  buckskins,  w^as  familiarly 
dubbed  Hardenbroeck ;  that  is  to  say,  Tough 
Breeches. 

Ten  Broeck  completed  this  junto  of  adven- 
turers. It  is  a  singular  but  ludicrous  fact — 
which,  were  I  not  scrupulous  in  recording  the 
whole  truth,  I  should  almost  be  tempted  to  pass 
over  in  silence  as  incompatible  ^vith  the  gravity 
and  dignity  of  history — that  this  worthy  gentle- 
man should  likewise  have  been  nicknamed  from 
what  in  modern  times  is  considered  the  most 
ignoble  part  of  the  dress;  but  in  truth  the 
small-clothes  seem  to  have  been  a  very  dig- 
nified garment  in  the  eyes  of  our  venerated  an- 
cestors. 

The  name  of  Ten  Broeck,  or,  as  it  was  some- 
times spelled.  Tin  Broeck,  has  been  indifferently 
translated  into  Ten  Breeches  and  Tin  Breeches. 
Certain  elegant  and  ingenious  writers  on  the 
subject  declare  in  favor  of  Tiii,  or  rather  Thin, 
Breeches;  whence  they  infer  that  the  original 
bearer  of  it  was  a  poor  but  merry  rogue,  whose 


Knickerbocker  History  159 

galligaskins  were  none  of  the  soundest,  and  who, 
peradventure,  may  have  been  the  author  of 
that  truly  philosophical  stanza: 

"Then  why  should  we  quarrel  for  riches, 
Or  any  such  glittering  toys  ? 
A  light  heart  and  thin  pair  of  breeches 

Will  go  through  the  world,  my  brave  boys!" 

The  more  accurate  commentators,  however, 
declare  in  favor  of  the  other  reading,  and  affirm 
that  the  worthy  in  question  was  a  burly,  bulbous 
man,  who,  in  sheer  ostentation  of  his  venerable 
progenitors,  was  the  first  to  introduce  into  the 
settlement  the  ancient  Dutch  fashion  of  ten 
pair  of  breeches^ 

Such  was  the  trio  of  coadjutors  chosen  by 
Oloffe  the  Dreamer  to  accompany  him  in  this 
voyage  into  unknown  realms;  as  to  the  names 
of  his  crews,  they  have  not  been  handed  down 
by  history. 

And  now  the  rosy  blush  of  morn  began  to 
mantle  in  the  east,  and  soon  the  rising  sun, 
emerging  from  amid  golden  and  purple  clouds, 
shed  his  blithesome  rays  on  the  tin  weathercocks 
of  Communipaw.  It  was  that  delicious  season 
of  the  year  when  Nature,  breaking  from  the 
chilling  thralldom  of  old  winter,  like  a  blooming 
damsel  from  the  tyranny  of  a  sordid  old  father, 
threw  herself,  blushing  with  ten  thousand  charms, 
into  the  arms  of  youthful  spring.  Every  tufted 
copse  and  blooming  grove  resounded  with  the 
notes,  of  hymeneal  love.     The  very  insects,  as 


160  Knickerbocker  History 

they  sipped  the  dew  that  gemmed  the  tender 
grass  of  meadows,  joined  in  the  joyous  epithala- 
miiim,  the  virgin  bud  timidly  put  forth  its 
bhishes,  "the  voice  of  the  turtle  was  heard  in  the 
land,"  and  the  heart  of  man  dissolved  away  in 
tenderness. 

No  sooner  did  the  first  rays  of  cheerful 
Phoebus  dart  into  the  windows  of  Communipaw 
than  the  little  settlement  was  all  in  motion. 
Forth  issued  from  his  castle  the  sage  Van  Kort- 
landt,  and,  seizing  a  conch-shell,  blew  a  far- 
resounding  blast,  that  soon  summoned  all  his 
lusty  followers.  Then  did  they  trudge  resolutely 
down  to  the  waterside,  escorted  by  a  multitude  of 
relatives  and  friends,  who  all  went  down,  as  the 
common  phrase  expresses  it,  "to  see  them  off." 

The  good  Oloffe  bestowed  his  forces  in  a 
squadron  of  three  canoes,  and  hoisted  his  flag 
on  board  a  little  round  Dutch  boat,  shaped  not 
unhke  a  tub,  which  had  formerly  been  the  jolly- 
boat  of  the  Goede  Vrouw.  And  now,  all  being 
embarked,  they  bade  farewell  to  the  gazing 
throng  upon  the  beach,  who  continued  shouting 
after  them  even  when  out  of  hearing,  wishing 
them  a  happy  voyage,  advising  them  to  take 
good  care  of  themselves,  not  to  get  drowned, 
with  an  abundance  other  of  those  sage  and 
invaluable  cautions  generally  given  by  landsmen 
to  such  as  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  and 
adventure  upon  the  deep  waters.  In  the  mean- 
while, the  voyagers  cheerily  urged  their  course 
across  the  crystal  bosom  of  the  bay  and  soon  left 
behind  them  the  green  shores  of  ancient  Pavonia. 


Knickerbocker  History  161 

They  coasted  by  Governor's  Island,  since 
terrible  from  its  frowning  fortress  and  grinning 
batteries.  They  would  by  no  means,  however, 
land  upon  this  island,  since  they  doubted  much 
it  might  be  the  abode  of  demons  and  spirits, 
which  in  those  days  did  greatly  abound  through- 
out this  savage  and  pagan  country. 

Just  at  this  time  a  shoal  of  jolly  porpoises  came 
rolling  and  tumbling  by,  turning  up  their  sleek 
sides  to  the  sun  and  spouting  up  the  briny 
element  in  sparkling  showers.  No  sooner  did 
the  sage  Oloffe  mark  this  than  he  was  greatly 
rejoiced.  "This,"  exclaimed  he,  "if  I  mistake 
not,  augurs  well:  the  porpoise  is  a  fat,  well- 
conditioned  fish,  a  burgomaster  among  fishes; 
his  looks  betoken  ease,  plenty,  and  prosperity; 
I  greatly  admire  this  round  fat  fish,  and  doubt 
not  but  this  is  a  happy  omen  of  the  success  of  our 
undertaking."  So  saying,  he  directed  his  squad- 
ron to  steer  in  the  track  of  these  alderman 
fishes. 

Turning,  therefore,  directly  to  the  left,  they 
swept  up  the  strait  vulgarly  called  the  East 
River.  And  here  the  rapid  tide  which  courses 
through  this  strait,  seizing  on  the  gallant  tub 
in  which  Commodore  Van  Kortlandt  had  em- 
barked, hurried  it  forward  with  a  velocity  un- 
paralleled in  a  Dutch  boat  navigated  by  Dutch- 
men; insomuch  that  the  good  commodore,  who 
had  all  his  life  long  been  accustomed  only  to  the 
drowsy  navigation  of  canals,  v/as  more  than 
ever  convinced  that  they  were  in  the  hands  of 
some    supernatural    power,    and    that   the    jolly 


162  Knickerbocker  IIistort 

porpoises  were  towing  them  to  some  fair  haven 
that  was  to  fulfill  all  their  wishes  and  expec- 
tations. 

Thus  borne  away  by  the  resistless  current, 
they  doubled  that  boisterous  point  of  land  since 
called  Corlear's  Hook,  and  leaving  to  the  right 
the  rich  winding  cove  of  the  Wallabout,  they 
drifted  into  a  magnificent  expanse  of  water, 
surrounded  by  pleasant  shores  whose  verdure 
was  exceedingly  refreshing  to  the  eye.  While 
the  voyagers  were  looking  around  them  on  what 
they  conceived  to  be  a  serene  and  sunny  lake, 
they  beheld  at  a  distance  a  crew  of  painted  sav- 
ages busily  employed  in  fishing,  who  seemed 
more  like  the  genii  of  this  romantic  region, 
their  slender  canoe  lightly  balanced  like  a  feather 
on  the  undulating  surface  of  the  bay. 

At  sight  of  these  the  hearts  of  the  heroes  of 
Communipaw  were  not  a  little  troubled.  But, 
as  good  fortune  would  have  it,  at  the  bow  of 
the  commodore's  boat  was  stationed  a  very 
vaHant  man,  named  Hendrick  Kip  (which, 
being  interpreted,  means  chicken,  a  name  given 
him  in  token  of  his  courage).  No  sooner  did  he 
behold  these  varlet  heathens  than  he  trembled 
with  excessive  valor,  and  although  a  good  half 
mile  distant  he  seized  a  musketoon  that  lay  at 
hand,  and,  turning  away  his  head,  fired  it  most 
intrepidly  in  the  face  of  the  blessed  sun.  The 
blundering  weapon  recoiled  and  gave  the  valiant 
Kip  an  ignominious  kick,  which  laid  him  pros- 
trate with  uplifted  heels  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
But  such  was  the  effect  of  this  tremendous  fire 


Knickerbocker  History  163 

that  the  wild  men  of  the  woods,  struck  ^\'ith  con- 
sternation, seized  hastily  upon  their  paddles  and 
shot  away  into  one  of  the  deep  inlets  of  the  Long 
Island  shore. 

This  signal  victory  gave  new  spirits  to  the 
voyagers,  and  in  honor  of  the  achievement  they 
gave  the  name  of  the  valiant  Kip  to  the  surround- 
ing bay,  and  it  has  continued  to  be  called 
Kip's  Bay  from  that  time  to  the  present.  The 
heart  of  the  good  Van  Kortlandt — who,  having 
no  land  of  his  own,  was  a  great  admirer  of  other 
people's — expanded  to  the  full  size  of  a  pepper- 
corn at  the  sumptuous  prospect  of  rich,  unsettled 
country  around  him,  and  falling  into  a  delicious 
reverie  he  straightway  began  to  riot  in  the  posses- 
sion of  vast  meadows  of  salt  marsh  and  inter- 
minable patches  of  cabbages.  From  this  delect- 
able vision  he  was  all  at  once  awakened  by  the 
sudden  turning  of  the  tide,  which  would  soon 
have  hurried  him  from  this  land  of  promise, 
had  not  the  discreet  navigator  given  the  signal 
to  steer  for  shore,  where  they  accordingly  landed 
hard  by  the  rocky  heights  of  Bellevue — that 
happy  retreat  where  our  jolly  aldermen  eat 
for  the  good  of  the  city  and  fatten  the  turtle 
that  are  sacrificed  on  civic  solemnities. 

Here,  seated  on  the  green  sward,  by  the  side 
of  a  small  stream  that  ran  sparkling  among  the 
grass,  they  refreshed  themselves  after  the  toils 
of  the  seas  by  feasting  lustily  on  the  ample  stores 
which  they  had  provided  for  this  perilous  voyage. 

±5y  this  time  the  jolly  Phoebus,  like  some 
wanton  urchin  sporting  on  the  side  of  a  green  hill, 


()4 


Knickerbocker  History 


HERE   THEY   REFRESHED   THEMSELVES 


began  to  roll  down  the  declivity  of  the  heavens; 
and  now,  the  tide  having  once  more  turned  in 
their  favor,  the  Pavonians  again  committed 
themselves  to  its  discretion,  and,  coasting  along 
the  western  shores,  were  borne  toward  the  straits 
of  Blackwell's  Island. 

And  here  the  capricious  wanderings  of  the 
current  occasioned  not  a  little  marvel  and  per- 
plexity to  these  illustrious  mariners.  Now  would 
they  be  caught  by  the  wanton  eddies,  and, 
sweeping  around  a  jutting  point,  would  wind 
deep  into  some  romantic  little  cave,  that  indented 
the  fair  island  of  Manna-hata;  now  were  they 
hurried  narrowly  by  the  very  basis  of  impending 


Knickerbocker  History  165 

rocks,  mantled  with  the  flaunting  grape-vine  and 
crowned  with  groves  which  threw  a  broad  shade 
on  the  waves  beneath;  and  anon  they  were  borne 
away  into  the  mid-channel  and  wafted  along 
with  a  rapidity  that  very  much  discomposed  the 
sage  Van  Kortlandt,  who  as  he  saw  the  land 
swiftly  receding  on  either  side,  began  exceedingly 
to  doubt  that  terra  firma  was  giving  them  the  slip. 

Wherever  the  voyagers  turned  their  eyes  a  new 
creation  seemed  to  bloom  around.  No  signs  of 
human  thrift  appeared  to  check  the  delicious 
wildness  of  Nature,  who  here  reveled  in  all  her 
luxuriant  variety.  Those  hills,  now  bristled, 
like  the  fretful  porcupine,  with  rows  of  poplars 
(vain  upstart'  plants!  minions  of  wealth  and 
fashion!),  were  then  adorned  with  the  vigorous 
natives  of  the  soil — the  hardy  oak,  the  generous 
chestnut,  the  graceful  elm — while  here  and  there 
the  tulip  tree  reared  its  majestic  head,  the  giant 
of  the  forest.  Where  now  are  seen  the  gay 
retreats  of  luxury — villas  half  buried  in  twilight 
bowers,  whence  the  amorous  flute  oft  breathes 
the  sighings  of  some  city  swain — there  the  fish- 
hawk  built  his  solitary  nest  on  some  dry  tree  that 
overlooked  his  watery  domain.  The  timid  deer 
fed  undisturbed  along  those  shores  now  hallowed 
l)y  the  lover's  moonlight  walk  and  printed  by  the 
slender  foot  of  beauty;  and  a  savage  solitude  ex- 
tended over  those  happy  regions  where  now  are 
reared  the  stately  towers  of  the  Joneses,  the 
Schermerhornes,  and  the  Rhineltmders. 

Ah!  witching  scenes  of  foul  delusion!  Ah! 
hapless  voyagers,  gazing  with  simple  wonder  on 

Vol.  IX.— u. 


1(36  Knickerbocker  History 

these  Circean  shores!  Such,  alas!  are  they,  poor 
easy  souls,  who  Hsten  to  the  seductions  of  a 
wicked  world — treacherous  are  its  smiles,  fatal 
its  caresses.  He  who  yields  to  its  enticements 
launches  upon  a  whelming  tide,  and  trusts  his 
feeble  bark  among  the  dimpling  eddies  of  a 
whirlpool!  And  thus  it  fared  with  the  worthies 
of  Pavonia,  who,  little  mistrusting  the  guileful 
scene  before  them,  drifted  quietly  on  until  they 
were  aroused  by  an  uncommon  tossing  and 
agitation  of  their  vessels.  For  now  the  late 
dimpling  current  began  to  brawl  around  them 
and  the  waves  to  boil  and  foam  with  horrific 
fury.  Awakened  as  if  from  a  dream,  the  as- 
tonished Oloffe  bawled  aloud  to  put  about,  but 
his  words  were  lost  amid  the  roaring  of  the 
waters.  And  now  ensued  a  scene  of  direful 
consternation.  At  one  time  they  were  borne 
with  dreadful  velocity  among  tumultuous 
breakers;  at  another  hurried  down  boisterous 
rapids.  Now  they  were  nearly  dashed  upon  the 
Hen  and  Chickens  (infamous  rocks! — more 
voracious  than  Scylla  and  her  whelps),  and  anon 
they  seemed  sinking  into  yawning  gulfs  that 
threatened  to  entomb  them  beneath  the  waves. 
All  the  elements  combined  to  produce  a  hideous 
confusion.  The  waters  raged,  the  winds  howded, 
and  as  they  were  hurried  along  several  of  the 
astonished  mariners  beheld  the  rocks  and  trees 
of  the  neighboring  shores  driving  through  the  air! 
At  length  the  mighty  tub  of  Commodore  Van 
Kortlandt  was  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  that 
tremendous  whirlpool  called  the  Pot,  where  it 


Knickerbocker  History  167 

was  whirled  about  in  giddy  mazes  until  the  senses 
of  the  good  commander  and  his  crew  were  over- 
powered by  the  horror  of  the  scene  and  the 
strangeness  of  the  revolution. 

How  the  gallant  squadron  of  Pavonia  was 
snatched  from  the  jaws  of  this  modern  Charybdis 
has  never  been  truly  made  known,  for  so  many 
survived  to  tell  the  tale,  and,  what  is  still  more 
wonderful,  told  it  in  so  many  different  ways,  that 
there  has  ever  prevailed  a  great  variety  of  opin- 
ions on  the  subject. 

As  to  the  commodore  and  his  crew,  when  they 
came  to  their  senses  they  found  themselves 
stranded  on  the  Long  Island  shore.  The  worthy 
commodore,  indeed,  used  to  relate  many  and 
wonderful  stories  of  his  adventures  in  this  time 
of  peril — how  that  he  saw  specters  flying  in  the 
air  and  heard  the  yeUing  of  hobgoblins,  and  put 
his  hand  into  the  pot  when  they  were  whirled 
round,  and  found  the  water  scalding  hot,  and 
beheld  several  uncouth-looking  beings  seated 
on  rocks  and  skimming  it  with  huge  ladles; 
but  particularly  he  declared,  with  great  exulta- 
tion, that  he  saw  the  losel  porpoises,  which  had 
betrayed  them  into  this  peril,  some  broiling  on 
the  Gridiron  and  others  hissing  on  theFrying-pan ! 

These,  however,  were  considered  by  many  as 
mere  fantasies  of  the  commodore  while  he  lay  in 
a  trance,  especially  as  he  was  known  to  be  given 
to  dreaming,  and  the  truth  of  them  has  never  been 
clearly  ascertained.  It  is  certain,  however,  that 
to  the  accounts  of  Olofl'e  and  his  followers  may 
be  traced  the  various  traditions  handed  down 


168  Knickerbocker  History 

of  this  marvelous  strait — as  how  the  devil  has 
been  seen  there  sitting^  astride  of  the  Hog's  Back 
and  playing  on  the  fiddle,  how  he  broils  fish 
there  before  a  storm,  and  many  other  stories  in 
which  we  must  be  cautious  of  putting  too  much 
faith.  In  consequence  of  all  these  terrific  cir- 
cumstances the  Pavonian  commander  gave  this 
pass  the  name  of  Hellegat,  or,  as  it  has  been 
interpreted,  Hell-Gate,^  which  it  continues  to 
bear  at  the  present  day. 

The  darkness  of  the  night  had  closed  upon 
this  disastrous  day,  and  a  doleful  night  was  it  to 
the  shipwrecked  Pavonians,  whose  ears  were 
incessantly  assailed  with  the  raging  of  the  ele- 
ments and  the  howling  of  the  hobgoblins  that 
infested  this  perilous  strait.  But  when  the 
morning  dawned  the  horrors  of  the  preceding 
evening  had  passed  away — rapids,  breakers, 
whirlpools  had  disappeared,  the  stream  again 
ran  smooth  and  dimpling,  and,  having  changed 
its  tide,  rolled  gently  back  toward  the  quarter 
where  lay  their  much-regretted  home. 

The  woe-begone  heroes  of  Communipaw  eyed 
each  other  with  rueful  countenances;  their  squad- 
ron had  been  totally  dispersed  by  the  late  disaster. 

I  forbear  to  treat  of  the  long  consultation  of 
OlofFe  with  his  remaining  followers,  in  which 
they  determined  that  it  would  never  do  to  found 
a  city  in  so  diabolical  a  neighborhood.     Suffice  it 


1.  This  is  a  narrow  strait  in  the  sound,  at  the  distance  of  six 
miles  above  New  Yorii.  It  is  dangerous  by  reason  of  numerous  rocks, 
shelves,  and  whirlpools.  These  have  received  sundry  appellations,  such 
as  the  Gridiron,  Frying-pan,  Hog's  Back,  Pot,  etc. 


Knickerbocker  History  109 

in  simple  brevity  to  say  that  they  once  more 
committed  themselves,  with  fear  and  trembling, 
to  the  briny  element,  and  steered  their  course 
back  again  through  the  scenes  of  their  yester- 
day's voyage,  determined  no  longer  to  roam  in 
search  of  distant  sites,  but  to  settle  themselves 
down  in  the  marshy  regions  of  Pavonia. 

Scarce,  however,  had  they  gained  a  distant  view 
of  Communipaw  when  they  were  encountered  by 
an  obstinate  eddy  which  opposed  their  home- 
ward voyage.  Weary  and  dispirited  as  they  were, 
they  yet  tugged  a  feeble  oar  against  the  stream, 
until,  as  if  to  settle  the  strife,  half  a  score  of 
potent  billows  rolled  the  tub  of  Commodore  Van 
Kortlandt  high  and  dry  on  the  long  point  of  an 
island  which  divided  the  bosom  of  the  bay. 

Oloffe  Van  Kortlandt  was  a  devout  trench- 
erman. Every  repast  w^as  a  kind  of  religious 
rite  with  him,  and  his  first  thought  on  finding 
himself  once  more  on  dry  ground  was  how  he 
should  contrive  to  celebrate  his  wonderful  escape 
from  Hell-Gate  and  all  its  horrors  by  a  solemn 
banquet.  The  stores  which  had  been  provided 
for  the  voyage  by  the  good  housewives  of  Com- 
munipaw were  nearly  exhausted,  but  in  casting 
his  eyes  about  the  commodore  beheld  that  the 
shore  abounded  with  oysters.  A  great  store  of 
these  was  instantly  collected;  a  fire  was  made  at 
the  foot  of  a  tree;  all  hands  fell  to  roasting  and 
broiling  and  stewing  and  frying,  and  a  sumptu- 
ous repast  was  soon  set  forth. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  worthy  Van 
Kortlandt  was  observed  to  be  particularly  zeal- 


170  Knickerbocker  History 

ous  in  his  devotions  to  the  trencher;  for,  having 
the  cares  of  the  expedition  especially  committed 
to  his  care,  he  deemed  it  incumbent  on  him 
to  eat  profoundly  for  the  public  good.  In  pro- 
portion as  he  filled  himself  to  the  very  brim  with 
the  dainty  viands  before  him,  did  the  heart  of 
this  excellent  burgher  rise  up  toward  his  throat, 
until  he  seemed  crammed  and  almost  choked 
with  good  eating  and  good  nature.  And  at  such 
times  it  is,  when  a  man's  heart  is  in  his  throat, 
that  he  may  more  truly  be  said  to  speak  from 
it  and  his  speeches  abound  with  kindness  and 
good  fellowship.  Thus,  having  swallowed  the 
last  possible  morsel  and  washed  it  down  with  a 
fervent  potation,  Oloffe  felt  his  heart  yearning 
and  his  whole  frame  in  a  manner  dilating  with 
unbounded  benevolence.  Everything  around 
him  seemed  excellent  and  delightful,  and,  laying 
his  hands  on  each  side  of  his  capacious  periphery, 
and  rolling  his  half-closed  eyes  around  on  the 
beautiful  diversity  of  land  and  water  before  him, 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  fat,  half-smothered  voice, 
"What  a  charming  prospect!"  The  words  died 
away  in  his  throat,  he  seemed  to  ponder  on  the 
fair  scene  for  a  moment,  his  eyelids  heavily 
closed  over  their  orbits,  his  head  drooped  upon 
his  bosom,  he  slowly  sank  upon  the  green  turf, 
and  a  deep  sleep  stole  gradually  over  him. 

Van  Kortlandt  awoke  from  his  sleep  greatly 
instructed,  and  he  aroused  his  companions  and 
told  them  that  it  was  the  will  of  Saint  Nicholas 
that  they  should  settle  down  and  build  the  city 
here.     With  one  voice  all  assented  to  this. 


Knickerbocker  History  171 

The  great  object  of  their  perilous  expedition, 
therefore,  being  thus  happily  accomphshed,  the 
voyagers  returned  merrily  to  Commiuiipaw, 
where  they  were  received  with  great  rejoicings. 

It  having;  been  solemnlv  resolved  that  the 
seat  of  empire  should  be  removed  from  the  green 
shores  of  Pavonia  to  the  pleasant  island  of  Man- 
na-hata,  everybody  was  anxious  to  embark 
under  the  standard  of  Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  and 
to  be  among  the  first  sharers  of  the  promised 
land.  A  day  was  appointed  for  the  grand  migra- 
tion, and  on  that  day  little  Communipaw  was  in 
abuzz  and  bustle  like  a  hive  in  swarming-time. 
Houses  were  turned  inside  out  and  stripped  of 
the  venerable  furniture  which  had  come  from 
Holland;  all  the  community,  great  and  small, 
black  and  white,  man,  woman  and  child,  was 
in  commotion,  forming  lines  from  the  houses 
to  the  water-side,  like  lines  of  ants  from  an 
ant-hill;  everybody  laden  with  some  article  of 
household  furniture,  while  busy  housewives  plied 
backward  and  forward  along  the  lines,  helping 
everything  forward  by  the  nimbleness  of  their 
tongues. 

By  degrees  a  fleet  of  boats  and  canoes  were 
piled  up  with  all  kinds  of  household  articles — 
ponderous  tables;  chests  of  drawers  resplendent 
with  brass  ornaments;  quaint  corner  cupboards; 
beds  and  bedsteads;  with  any  quantity  of  pots, 
kettles,  frying-pans  and  Dutch  ovens.  In  each 
boat  embarked  a  whole  family,  from  the  robus- 
tious burgher  down  to  the  cats  and  dogs  and  little 
negroes.     In   this   way   they  set  off  across   the 


172  Knickerbocker  History 

mouth  of  the  Hudson,  under  the  guidance  of 
(^lolVe  the  Dreamer,  who  hoisted  his  standard 
on  the  leading  boat- 
As  the  httle  squadron  from  Communipaw 
drew  near  to  the  shores  of  Manna-hata,  a  sachem 
at  the  head  of  a  band  of  warriors  appeared  to 
oppose  their  landing.  Some  of  the  most  zealous 
of  the  pilgrims  were  for  chastising  this  insolence 
with  powder  and  ball,  according  to  the  approved 
mode  of  discoverers;  but  the  sage  Olofi'e  gave 
them  the  significant  sign  of  Saint  Nicholas,  laying 
his  finger  beside  his  nose  and  winking  hard  with 
one  eye,  whereupon  his  followers  perceived  that 
there  was  something  sagacious  in  the  wink.  He 
now  addressed  the  Indians  in  the  blandest 
terms,  and  made  such  tempting  display  of  beads, 
hawks'-bells,  and  red  blankets  that  he  was  soon 
permitted  to  land,  and  a  great  land  speculation 
ensued.  And  here  let  me  give  the  true  story 
of  the  original  purchase  of  the  site  of  this  re- 
nowned city  about  which  so  much  has  been 
said  and  written.  Some  affirm  that  the  first 
cost  was  but  sixty  guilders.  The  learned 
Dominie  Heckwelder  records  a  tradition  that 
the  Dutch  discoverers  bargained  for  only  so 
much  land  as  the  hide  of  a  bullock  would  cover; 
but  that  they  cut  the  hide  in  strips  no  thicker 
than  a  child's  finger,  so  as  to  take  in  a  large 
portion  of  land  and  to  take  in  the  Indians  into 
the  bargain.  This,  how^ever,  is  an  old  fable 
which  the  w^orthy  Dominie  may  have  borrowed 
from  antiquity.  The  true  version  is,  that  Oloffe 
Van  Kortlandt  bargained  for  just  so  much  land 


Knickerbocker  History  173 

as  a  man  could  cover  with  his  nether  garments. 
The  terms  being  concluded,  he  produced  his 
friend  INIynheer  Ten  Broeck  as  the  man  whose 
breeches  were  to  be  used  in  measurement.  The 
simple  savages,  whose  ideas  of  a  man's  nether 
garments  had  never  expanded  beyond  the  dimen- 
sions of  a  breech-clout,  stared  with  astonishment 
and  dismay  as  they  beheld  this  burgher  peeled 
like  an  onion,  and  breeches  after  breeches 
spread  forth  over  the  land  until  they  covered  the 
actual  site  of  this  venerable  city. 

This  is  the  true  history  of  the  adroit  bargain 
by  which  the  island  of  Manhattan  was  bought 
for  sixty  guilders;  and  in  corroboration  of  it 
I  will  add  that  Mynheer  Ten  Breeches,  for  his 
services  on  this  memorable  occasion,  was  elevated 
to  the  office  of  land  measurer,  which  he  ever 
afterward  exercised  in  the  colony. 

The  land  being  thus  fairly  purchased  of  the 
Indians,  a  circumstance  very  unusual  in  the 
history  of  colonization,  and  strongly  illustrative 
of  the  honesty  of  our  Dutch  progenitors,  a  stock- 
ade fort  and  a  trading-house  were  forthwith 
erected  on  an  eminence,  the  identical  place  at 
present  known  as  the  Bowling  Green. 

Around  this  fort  a  progeny  of  little  Dutch- 
built  houses,  with  tiled  roofs  and  weathercocks, 
soon  sprang  up,  nestling  themselves  under  its 
walls  for  protection,  as  a  brood  of  half-fledged 
chickens  nestle  under  the  wings  of  the  mother 
hen.  The  whole  was  surrounded  by  an  inclosure 
of  strong  palisadoes  to  guard  against  any  sudden 
irruption  of  the  savages.     Outside  of  these  ex- 


174  Kmckkhbockek  History 

tended  the  cornfields  and  cabbage-gardens  of 
the  community,  with  here  and  there  an  attempt 
at  a  tobacco-plantation;  all  covering  those  tracts 
of  country  at  present  called  Broadway,  Wall 
street,  William  street  and  Pearl  street. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  in  portioning 
out  the  land  a  goodly  "bowerie"  or  farm  was 
allotted  to  the  sage  Oloffe  in  consideration  of  the 
service  he  had  rendered  to  the  public  by  his  talent 
at  dreaming;  and  the  site  of  his  "bowerie"  is 
known  Idv  the  name  of  Kortlandt,  (or  Court- 
landt,)  street  to  the  present  day. 

And  now,  the  infant  settlement  having  ad- 
vanced in  age  and  stature,  it  was  thought  high 
time  it  should  receive  an  honest  Christian  name. 
Hitherto  it  had  gone  by  the  original  Indian  name 
Manna-hata,  or,  as  some  will  have  it,  "The 
Manhattoes; "  but  this  was  now  decried  as  savage 
and  heathenish,  and  as  tending  to  keep  up  the 
memory  of  the  pagan  brood  that  originally  pos- 
sessed it.  Many  were  the  consultations  held 
upon  the  subject  without  coming  to  a  conclusion, 
for,  though  everybody  condemned  the  old  name, 
nobody  could  invent  a  new  one.  At  length, 
when  the  council  was  almost  in  despair,  a 
burgher,  remarkable  for  the  size  and  squareness 
of  his  head,  proposed  that  they  should  call  it 
New  Amsterdam.  The  proposition  took  every- 
body by  surprise;  it  was  so  striking,  so  apposite, 
so  ingenious.  The  name  was  adopted  by  ac- 
clamation, and  New  Amsterdam  the  metropolis 
was  thenceforth  called.  Still,  however,  the 
early  authors  of  the  province  continued  to  call  it 


Knickerbocker  History 


175 


by  the  general  appellation  of  "The  Manhattoes," 
and  the  poets  fondly  clung  to  the  euphonious 
name  of  Manna-hata;  but  those  are  a  kind  of 
folk  whose  tastes  and  notions  should  go  for  noth- 
ing in  matters  of  this  kind. 

Having  thus  provided  the  embryo  city  with  a 
name,  the  next  was  to  give  it  an  armorial  bearing 
or  device.  As  some  cities  have  a  rampant  lion, 
others  a  soaring  eagle,  emblematical,  no  doubt, 
of  the  valiant  and  high-fl}ing  qualities  of  the  in- 
habitants, so  after  mature  deliberation  a  sleek 
beaver  was  emblazoned  on  the  city  standard  as  in- 
dicative of  the  amphibious  origin  and  patient  and 
persevering  habits  of  the  New  Amsterdammers. 


WALTER   THE   DOUBTER 

T  was  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1629 
that  Mynheer  Wouter  Van  Twiller 
was  appointed  governor  of  the  prov- 
ince of  Nieuw  Nederlandts,  under 
the  commission  and  control  of  their 
High  Mightinesses  the  Lords  States 
General  of  the  United  Netherlands 
and  the  privileged  West  India  Company. 

The  renowned  Wouter  (or  Walter)  Van 
Twiller  was  descended  from  a  long  line  of  Dutch 
burgomasters,  who  had  successively  dozed  away 
their  lives  and  grown  fat  upon  the  bench  of 
magistracy  in  Rotterdam,  and  who  had  com- 
ported themselves  with  such  singular  wisdom 
and  propriety  that  they  were  never  either  heard 
or  talked  of;  which,  next  to  being  universally 


176  Knickerbocker  History 

applauded,  should  be  the  object  of  ambition  of 
all  magistrates  and  rulers.  There  are  two  op- 
posite ways  by  which  some  men  make  a  figure  in 
the  world — one  by  talking  faster  than  they  think, 
and  the  other  by  holding  their  tongues  and  not 
thinking  at  all.  By  the  first  many  a  smatterer 
acquires  the  reputation  of  a  man  of  quick  parts; 
by  the  other  many  a  dunderpate,  like  the  owl, 
the  stupidest  of  birds,  comes  to  be  considered  the 
very  type  of  wisdom.  This,  by  the  way,  is  a 
casual  remark,  which  I  would  not  for  the  uni- 
verse have  it  thought  I  apply  to  Governor  Van 
Twiller.  It  is  true  he  was  a  man  shut  up  within 
himself,  like  an  oyster,  and  rarely  spoke  except 
in  monosyllables;  but  then  it  was  allowed  he 
seldom  said  a  foolish  tiling.  So  invincible  w-as 
his  gra\ity  that  he  was  never  known  to  laugh  or 
even  to  smile  through  the  whole  course  of  a  long 
and  prosperous  life.  Nay,  if  a  joke  were  uttered 
in  his  presence  that  set  light-minded  hearers  in 
a  roar,  it  was  observed  to  throw  him  into  a  state 
of  perplexity.  Sometimes  he  would  deign  to 
inquire  into  the  matter,  and  when,  after  much 
explanation,  the  joke  was  made  as  plain  as  a 
pike-staff,  he  w^ould  continue  to  smoke  his  pipe 
in  silence,  and  at  length,  knocking  out  the  ashes, 
would  exclaim,  *'Well!  I  see  nothing  in  all  that 
to  laugh  about." 

The  person  of  this  illustrious  old  gentleman 
was  formed  and  proportioned,  as  though  it  had 
been  molded  by  the  hands  of  some  cunning 
Dutch  statuary,  as  a  model  of  majesty  and  lordly 
grandeur.     He  was  exactly  five  feet  six  inches 


Knickerbocker  History  177 

in  height  and  six  feet  five  inches  in  circumference. 
His  head  was  a  perfect  sphere,  and  of  such  stu- 
pendous dimensions  that  Dame  Nature  with  all 
her  sex's  ingenuity  would  have  been  puzzled  to 
construct  a  neck  capable  of  supporting  it;  where- 
fore she  wisely  declined  the  attempt,  and  settled 
it  firmJy  on  the  top  of  his  backbone  just  between 
the  shoulders.  Ilis  body  was  oblong  and  par- 
ticularly capacious  at  bottom;  which  was  wisely 
ordered  by  Providence,  seeing  that  he  was  a  man 
of  sedentary  habits  and  very  averse  to  the  idle 
labor  of  walking.  His  legs  were  short,  but 
sturdy  in  proportion  to  the  weight  they  had  to 
sustain,  so  that  when  erect  he  had  not  a  little  the 
appearance  of  a  beer-barrel  on  skids.  His  face, 
that  infallible  index  of  the  mind,  presented  a  vast 
expanse,  unfurrowed  by  any  of  those  lines  and 
ann^les  which  disfif^^ure  the  human  countenance 
with  what  is  termed  expression.  Two  small 
gray  eyes  twinkled  feebly  in  the  midst,  like  two 
stars  of  lesser  magnitude  in  a  hazy  firmament, 
and  his  full-fed  cheeks,  which  seemed  to  have 
taken  toll  of  everything  that  went  into  his  mouth, 
were  curiously  mottled  and  streaked  with  dusky 
red,  like  a  spitzenberg  apple. 

In  his  council  he  presided  with  great  state  and 
solemnity.  He  sat  in  a  huge  chair  of  solid  oak, 
hewn  in  the  celebrated  forest  of  The  Hague, 
fabricated  by  an  experienced  timmerman  of 
Amsterdam,  and  curiously  carved  about  the 
arms  and  feet  into  exact  imitations  of  gigantic 
eagle's  claws.  Instead  of  a  scepter  he  swayed  a 
long  Turkish   pipe,  wrought  with  jasmine  and 


178  Knickerbocker  History 

amber,  which  had  been  presented  to  a  stadtholder 
of  Holland  at  the  conclusion  of  a  treaty  with  one 
of  the  petty  Barbary  powers.  In  this  stately 
chair  would  he  sit  and  this  magnificent  pipe 
would  he  smoke,  shaking  his  right  knee  with  a 
constant  motion,  and  fixing  his  eye  for  hours 
upon  a  little  print  of  Amsterdam  which  hung  in  a 
black  frame  against  the  opposite  wall  of  the  coun- 
cil-chamber. Nay,  it  has  even  been  said  that 
when  any  deliberation  of  extraordinary  length 
and  intricacy  was  on  the  carpet  the  renowned 
Wouter  would  shut  his  eyes  for  full  two  hours  at 
a  time,  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  by  ex- 
ternal objects;  and  at  such  times  the  internal 
commotion  of  his  mind  was  evinced  by  certain 
regular  guttural  sounds,  which  his  admirers  de- 
clared were  merely  the  noise  of  conflict  made  by 
his  contending  doubts  and  opinions. 

The  very  outset  of  the  career  of  this  excellent 
magistrate  was  distinguished  by  an  example  of 
legal  acumen  that  gave  flattering  presage  of  a 
wise  and  equitable  administration.  The  morn- 
ing after  he  had  been  installed  in  office,  and  at 
the  moment  that  he  was  making  his  breakfast 
from  a  prodigious  earthen  dish  filled  with  milk 
and  Indian  pudding,  he  was  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Wandle  Schoonhoven,  a  very  im- 
portant old  burgher  of  New  Amsterdam,  who 
complained  bitterly  of  one  Barent  Bleecker,  in- 
asmuch as  he  refused  to  come  to  a  settlement  of 
accounts,  seeing  ^hat  there  was  a  heavy  balance 
in  favor  of  the  said  Wandle.  Governor  Van 
Twiller,  as  I  have  already  observed,  was  a  man 


Knickerbocker  History 


179 


OK-loir  .STEVEwao 


HE   WAS   INTERHtJPTKD   BY   WANDLE   SCHOONHOVEN 

of  few  words;  he  was  likewise  a  mortal  enemy  to 
multiplying  writings  or  being  disturbed  at  his 
breakfast.  Having  listened  attentively  to  the 
statement  of  Wandle  Schoonhoven,  giving  an 
occasional  grunt  as  he  shoveled  a  spoonful  of 
Indian  pudding  into  his  mouth,  either  as  a  sign 
that  he  relished  the  dish  or  comprehended  the 
story,  he  called  unto  him  his  constable,  and,  pull- 
ing out  of  his  breeches  pocket  a  huge  jack-knife, 
dispatched  it  after  the  defendant  as  a  summons, 
accompanied  by  his  tobacco-box  as  a  warrant. 


180  Knickerbocker  History 

This  summary  process  was  as  effectual  in  those 
simple  days  as  was  the  seal  ring  of  the  great 
Ilaroun  Alraschid  among  the  true  believers. 
The  two  parties  being  confronted  before  him, 
each  produced  a  book  of  accounts  written  in  a 
language  and  character  that  would  have  puzzled 
any  but  a  High  Dutch  commentator  or  a  learned 
decipherer  of  Egyptian  obelisks.  The  sage 
"Woutcr  took  them  one  after  the  other,  and,  hav- 
ing poised  them  in  his  hands  and  attentively 
counted  over  the  number  of  leaves,  fell  straight- 
way into  a  very  great  doubt,  and  smoked  for  half 
an  hour  without  saying  a  word;  at  length,  laying 
his  finger  beside  his  nose  and  shutting  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  just 
caught  a  subtle  idea  by  the  tail,  he  slowly  took 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  puffed  forth  a  column 
of  tobacco-smoke,  and  with  marvelous  gravity 
and  solemnity  pronounced — that,  having  care- 
fully counted  over  the  leaves  and  weighed  the 
books,  it  was  found  that  one  was  just  as  thick 
and  as  heavy  as  the  other;  therefore  it  was  the 
final  opinion  of  the  court  that  the  accounts  were 
equally  balanced;  therefore  Wandle  should  give 
Barent  a  receipt,  and  Barent  should  give  Wandle 
a  receipt;  and  the  constable  should  pay  the 
costs. 

This  decision,  being  straightway  made  known, 
diffused  general  joy  throughout  New  Amster- 
dam, for  the  people  immediately  perceived  that 
they  had  a  very  wise  and  equitable  magistrate  to 
rule  over  them.  But  its  happiest  effect  was  that 
not  another  lawsuit  took  place  throughout  the 


Knickerbocker  History 


181 


whole  of  his  administration,  and  the  office  of 
constable  fell  into  such  decay  that  there  was  not 
one  of  those  losel  scouts  known  in  the  province 
for  many  years. 


HOW    THE    COLONISTS  LIVED     IN    THE     DAYS     OF 
WALTER    THE    DOUBTER 

rn  n--Mj!!3HE  houses  of  the  higher  class  were 
generally  constructed  of  wood,  ex- 
cepting the  gable  end,  which  was  of 
small  black  and  yellow  Dutch  bricks, 
and  always  faced  on  the  street,  as 
our  ancestors,  like  their  descend- 
ants, were  very  much  given  to  out- 
ward show,  and  were  noted  for  putting  the  best 
leg  foremost.  The  house  was  always  furnished 
with  abundance  of  large  doors  and  small  win- 
dows on  every  floor,  the  date  of  its  erection  was 
curiously  designated  by  iron  figures  on  the  front, 
and  on  the  top  of  the  roof  was  perched  a  fierce 
little  weathercock,  to  let  the  family  into  the  im- 
portant secret  which  way  the  wind  blew.  These, 
like  the  weathercocks  on  the  tops  of  our  steeples, 
pointed  so  many  different  ways  that  every  man 
could  have  a  wind  to  his  mind;  the  most  stanch 
and  loyal  citizens,  however,  always  went  accord- 
ing to  the  weathercock  on  the  top  of  the  gover- 
nor's house,  which  was  certainly  the  most  correct, 
as  he  had  a  trusty  servant  employed  every  morn- 
ing to  climb  up  and  set  it  to  the  right  quarter. 

In  those  good  days  of  simplicity  and  sunshine 
u  passion  for  cleanliness  was  the  leading  prin- 

Vol.  IX.— 13. 


18'-2  Knickerbocker  History 

ciple  in  domestic  economy  and  the  universal  test 
of  an  able  housewife — a  character  which  formed 
the  utmost  ambition  of  our  unenlightened  grand- 
mothers. The  front  door  was  never  opened  ex- 
cept on  marriages,  funerals,  New  Year's  days, 
the  festival  of  Saint  Nicholas,  or  some  such  great 
occasion.  It  was  ornamented  wdth  a  gorgeous 
brass  knocker,  curiously  wrought,  sometimes  in 
the  device  of  a  dog,  and  sometimes  of  a  lion's 
head,  and  was  daily  burnished  with  such  religious 
zeal  that  it  was  ofttimes  worn  out  by  the  very 
precautions  taken  for  its  preservation.  The 
whole  house  was  constantly  in  a  state  of  inunda- 
tion under  the  discipline  of  mops  and  brooms 
and  scrubbing  brushes ;  and  the  good  housewives 
of  those  days  were  a  kind  of  amphibious  animal, 
delighting  exceedingly  to  be  dabbling  in  water, 
insomuch  that  an  historian  of  the  day  gravely 
tells  us  that  many  of  his  townswomen  grew  to 
have  webbed  fingers  like  unto  a  duck;  but  this 
I  look  upon  to  be  a  mere  sport  of  fancy,  or,  what 
is  worse,  a  willful  misrepresentation. 

The  grand  parlor  was  the  sanctum-sanctorum 
where  the  passion  for  cleaning  was  indulged 
without  control.  In  this  sacred  apartment  no 
one  was  permitted  to  enter  excepting  the  mistress 
and  her  confidential  maid,  who  visited  it  once  a 
week  for  the  purpose  of  giving  it  a  thorough 
cleaning  and  putting  things  to  rights,  always 
taking  the  precaution  of  leaving  their  shoes  at 
the  door  and  entering  devoutly  in  their  stocking 
feet.  After  scrubbing  the  floor,  sprinkling  it 
with  fine  white  sand,  which  was  curiously  stroked 


Knickerbocker  History  183 

into  angles,  and  curves,  and  rhomboids  with  a 
broom — after  washing  the  windows,  rubbing  and 
poUshing  the  furniture,  and  putting  a  new  bunch 
of  evergreens  in  the  fireplace — the  window  shutters 
were  again  closed  to  keep  out  the  flies,  and  the 
room  carefully  locked  up  until  the  revolution  of 
time  brought  round  the  weekly  cleaning  day. 

As  to  the  family,  they  always  entered  in  at  the 
gate,  and  most  generally  lived  in  the  kitchen. 
To  have  seen  a  numerous  household  assembled 
round  the  fire  one  would  have  imagined  that  he 
was  transported  back  to  those  happy  days  of 
primeval  simplicity  which  float  before  our  imagi- 
nations like  golden  visions.  The  fireplaces  were 
of  a  truly  patriarchal  magnitude,  where  the  whole 
family,  old  and  young,  master  and  servant,  black 
and  white — nay,  even  the  very  cat  and  dog — 
enjoyed  a  community  of  privilege  and  had  each 
a  right  to  a  corner.  Here  the  old  burgher  would 
sit  in  perfect  silence,  pufiing  his  pipe,  looking  in 
the  fire  with  half-shut  eyes,  and  thinking  of 
nothing  for  hours  together;  the  goede  vrouw  on 
the  opposite  side  would  employ  herself  diligently 
in  spinning  yarn  or  knitting  stockings.  The 
young  folks  would  crowd  around  the  hearth, 
listening  with  breathless  attention  to  some  old 
crone  of  a  negro  who  was  the  oracle  of  the  family, 
and  who,  perched  like  a  raven  in  a  corner  of  the 
chimney,  would  croak  forth  for  a  long  winter 
afternoon  a  string  of  incredible  stories  about 
New  England  witches,  grisly  ghosts,  horses 
without  heads,  and  hair-breadth  escapes  and 
bloody  encounters  among  the  Indians. 


184  K^NICKERBOCKER    HiSTORY 

In  those  happy  days  a  well-regulated  family 
always  rose  with  the  dawn,  dined  at  eleven,  and 
went  to  bed  at  sunset.  Dinner  was  invariably 
a  private  meal,  and  the  fat  old  burghers  showed 
incontestible  signs  of  disapprobation  and  uneasi- 
ness at  being  surprised  by  a  visit  from  a  neighbor 
on  such  occasions.  But,  though  our  worthy 
ancestors  were  thus  singularly  adverse  to  giving 
dinners,  yet  they  kept  up  the  social  bands  of 
intimacy  by  occasional  banquetings  called  tea- 
parties. 

These  fashionable  parties  were  generally  con- 
fined to  the  higher  classes — or  noblesse — that  is 
to  say,  such  as  kept  their  own  cows  and  drove 
their  own  wagons.  The  company  commonly 
assembled  at  three  o'clock  and  went  away  about 
six,  unless  it  was  in  winter  time,  when  the  fash- 
ionable hours  were  a  little  earlier,  that  the  ladies 
might  get  home  before  dark.  The  tea-table  was 
crowned  with  a  huge  earthen  dish  well  stored 
with  slices  of  fat  pork  fried  brown,  cut  up  into 
morsels,  and  swimming  in  gravy.  The  com- 
pany, being  seated  round  the  genial  board  and 
each  furnished  with  a  fork,  evinced  their  dex- 
terity in  launching  at  the  fattest  pieces  in  this 
mighty  dish — in  much  the  same  manner  as 
sailors  harpoon  porpoises  at  sea,  or  our  Indians 
spear  salmon  in  the  lakes.  Sometimes  the  table 
was  graced  with  immense  apple  pies  or  saucers 
full  of  preserved  peaches  and  pears;  but  it  was 
always  sure  to  boast  an  enormous  dish  of  balls 
of  sweetened  dough,  fried  in  hog's  fat,  and  called 
doughnuts,  or  olykoeks — a  delicious  kind  of  cake 


AN   OI,U   MA.ItO    WUUl.U   CUOAh.    1  (Jit  Ml   aiuiuha 


Knickerbocker  History  185 

at  present  scarce  known  in  this  city,  except  in 
genuine  Dutch  famihes. 

The  tea  was  served  out  of  a  majestic  delft  tea- 
pot ornamented  with  paintings  of  fat  Httle  Dutch 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses  tending  pigs,  with 
boats  saihng  in  the  air,  and  houses  built  in  the 
clouds,  and  sundry  other  ingenious  Dutch 
fantasies.  The  beaux  distinguished  themselves 
by  their  adroitness  in  replenishing  this  pot  from 
a  huge  copper  tea-kettle  which  would  have  made 
the  pigmy  macaronies  of  these  degenerate  days 
sweat  merely  to  look  at  it.  To  sweeten  the  bev- 
erage a  lump  of  sugar  was  laid  beside  each  cup, 
and  the  company  alternately  nibbled  and  sipped 
with  great  decorum,  until  an  improvement  was 
introduced  by  a  shrewd  and  economic  old  lady, 
which  was  to  suspend  a  large  lump  directly  over 
the  tea-table  by  a  string  from  the  ceiling,  so  that 
it  could  be  swung  from  mouth  to  mouth — an 
ingenious  expedient  which  is  still  kept  up  by 
some  families  in  Albany,  but  which  prevails 
without  exception  in  Communipaw,  Bergen, 
Flatbush,  and  all  our  uncontaminated  Dutch 
villages. 

At  these  primitive  tea-parties  the  utmost  pro- 
priety and  dignity  of  deportment  prevailed.  No 
flirting  nor  coquetting;  no  gambling  of  old  ladies 
nor  hoyden  chattering  and  romping  of  young 
ones;  no  self-satisfied  struttings  of  wealthy  gentle- 
men with  their  brains  in  their  pockets;  nor  amus- 
ing conceits  and  monkey  divertisements  of  smart 
young  gentlemen  with  no  brains  at  all.  On  the 
contrary,    the    young    ladies    seated    themselves 


186  Knickerbocker  History 

demurely  in  their  rush-bottomed  chairs  and  knit 
their  own  woolen  stockings,  nor  ever  opened 
their  lips  excepting  to  say  YaJi,  Mynheer,  or  Yah 
ya,  Vrouiv,  to  any  question  that  was  asked  them, 
behaving  in  all  things  like  decent,  well-educated 
damsels.  As  to  the  gentlemen,  each  of  them 
tranquilly  smoked  his  pipe  and  seemed  lost  in 
contemplation  of  the  blue  and  white  tiles  with 
which  the  fireplaces  were  decorated,  whereon 
sundry  passages  of  Scriptures  were  piously  por- 
trayed: Tobit  and  his  dog  figured  to  great  ad- 
vantage ;  Haman  swung  conspicuously  on  his  gib- 
bet; and  Jonah  appeared  most  manfully  bounc- 
ing out  of  the  whale,  Hke  Harlequin  through  a 
barrel  of  fire. 

The  parties  broke  up  w^ithout  noise  and  with- 
out confusion.  They  were  carried  home  by  their 
own  carriages — that  is  to  say,  by  the  vehicles 
Nature  had  provided  them — excepting  such  of 
the  wealthy  as  could  afford  to  keep  a  wagon. 
The  gentlemen  gallantly  attended  their  fair  ones, 
to  their  respective  abodes,  and  took  leave  of 
them  with  a  hearty  smack  at  the  door,  which  as 
it  was  an  established  piece  of  etiquette,  done  in 
perfect  simplicity  and  honesty  of  heart,  occa- 
sioned no  scandal  at  that  time,  nor  should  it  at 
the  present:  if  our  great-grandfathers  approved 
of  the  custom,  it  would  argue  a  great  want  of 
reverence  in  their  descendants  to  say  a  word 
against  it. 

In  this  dulcet  period  of  my  history,  when  the 
beauteous  island  of  Manna-hata  presented  a 
scene  the  very  counterpart  of  those  glowing  pic- 


Knickerbocker  History  187 

tures  drawn  of  the  golden  reign  of  Saturn,  there 
was,  as  I  have  before  observed,  a  happy  igno- 
rance, an  honest  simpHcity,  prevalent  among  its 
inhabitants,  which,  were  I  even  able  to  depict, 
would  be  but  little  understood  by  the  degenerate 
age  for  which  I  am  doomed  to  write.  Even  the 
female  sex,  those  arch  innovators  upon  the  tran- 
quillity, the  honesty,  and  gray-beard  customs  of 
society,  seemed  for  a  while  to  conduct  themselves 
with  incredible  sobriety  and  comeliness. 

Their  hair,  untortured  by  the  abominations 
of  art,  was  scrupulously  pomatumed  back  from 
their  foreheads  with  a  candle,  and  covered  with 
a  little  cap  of  quilted  calico  which  fitted  exactly 
to  their  heads.  Their  petticoats  of  linsey-wool- 
sey were  striped  with  a  variety  of  gorgeous  dyes, 
though  I  must  confess  these  gallant  garments 
were  rather  short,  scarce  reaching  below  the 
knee;  but  then  they  made  up  in  the  number, 
which  generally  equalled  that  of  the  gentlemen's 
small-clothes;  and,  what  is  still  more  praise- 
worthy, they  were  all  of  their  own  manufacture, 
of  which  circumstance,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
they  were  not  a  little  vain. 

These  were  the  honest  days  in  which  every 
woman  stayed  at  home,  read  the  Bible,  and  wore 
pockets — ay,  and  that  too  of  a  goodly  size, 
fashioned  with  patchwork  into  many  curious 
devices  and  ostentatiously  worn  on  the  outside. 
These,  in  fact,  were  convenient  receptacles  where 
all  good  housewives  carefully  stored  away  such 
things  as  they  wished  to  have  at  hand,  by  which 
means  they  often  came  to  be  incredibly  crammed ; 


188  Knickerbocker  History 

and  I  remember  there  was  a  story  current  when 
I  was  a  boy  that  the  lady  of  Woiiter  Van  Twillei 
once  had  occasion  to  empty  her  right  pocket  in 
searcli  of  a  wooden  ladle,  when  the  contents  filled 
a  couj)le  of  corn  baskets,  and  the  utensil  was 
discovered  lying  among  some  rubbish  in  one 
corner.  But  we  must  not  give  too  much  faith 
to  all  these  stories,  the  anecdotes  of  those  remote 
periods  being  very  subject  to  exaggeration. 

Besides  these  notable  pockets,  they  likewise 
wore  scissors  and  pincushions  suspended  from 
their  girdles  by  red  ribbons,  or  among  the  more 
opulent  and  showy  classes  by  brass,  and  even 
silver,  chains — indubitable  tokens  of  thrifty 
housewives  and  industrious  spinsters.  I  cannot 
say  much  in  vindication  of  the  shortness  of  the 
petticoats:  it  doubtless  was  introduced  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  the  stockings  a  chance  to  be 
seen,  which  were  generally  of  blue  worsted  with 
magnificent  red  clocks,  or  perhaps  to  display  a 
well-turned  ankle  and  a  neat,  though  serviceable 
foot,  set  off  by  a  high-heeled  leathern  shoe  with 
a  large  and  splendid  silver  buckle.  Thus  we 
find  that  the  gentle  sex  in  all  ages  have  shown 
the  same  disposition  to  infringe  a  little  upon  the 
laws  of  decorum  in  order  to  betray  a  lurking 
b'  auty  or  gratify  an  innocent  love  of  finery. 

From  the  sketch  here  given  it  will  be  seen  that 
our  good  grandmothers  differed  considerably  in 
their  ideas  of  a  fine  figure  from  their  scantily 
dressed  descendants  of  the  present  day.  A  fine 
lady  in  those  times  waddled  under  more  clothes, 
even  on  a  fair  summer's  day,  than  would  have 


Knickerbocker  History  189 

clad  the  whole  bevy  of  a  modem  ball-room. 
Nor  were  they  the  less  admired  by  the  gentlemen 
in  consequence  thereof.  On  the  contrary,  the 
greatness  of  a  lover's  passion  seemed  to  increase 
in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  its  object,  and 
a  voluminous  damsel,  arrayed  in  a  dozen  of 
petticoats,  was  declared  by  a  Low  Dutch  son- 
neteer of  the  province  to  be  radiant  as  a  sun- 
flower and  luxuriant  as  a  full-blown  cabbage. 
Certain  it  is  that  in  those  days  the  heart  of  a 
lover  could  not  contain  more  than  one  lady  at  a 
time;  whereas  the  heart  of  a  modern  gallant  has 
often  room  enough  to  accommodate  half  a  dozen. 
The  reason  of  which  I  conclude  to  be,  that 
either  the  hearts  of  the  gentlemen  have  grown 
larger  or  the  persons  of  the  ladies  smaller;  this, 
however,  is  a  question  for  physiologists  to  deter- 
mine. 

But  there  was  a  secret  charm  in  these  petti- 
coats which  no  doubt  entered  into  the  considera- 
tion of  the  prudent  gallants.  The  wardrobe  of 
a  lady  was  in  those  days  her  only  fortune,  and  she 
who  had  a  good  stock  of  petticoats  and  stockings 
was  as  absolutely  an  heiress  as  is  a  Kamschatka 
damsel  with  a  store  of  bear  skins  or  a  Lapland 
belle  with  a  plenty  of  reindeer.  The  ladies, 
therefore,  were  very  anxious  to  display  these 
powerful  attractions  to  the  greatest  advantage; 
and  the  best  rooms  in  the  house,  instead  of  being 
adorned  with  caricatures  of  Dame  Nature  in 
water  colors  and  needlework,  were  always  hung 
round  with  abundance  of  homespun  garments, 
the  manufacture  and  the  property  of  the  females 


190  Knickerbocker  History 

— a  piece  of  laudable  ostentation  that  still  pre- 
vails among  the  heiresses  of  our  Dutch  villages. 

The  gentlemen,  in  fact,  Avho  figured  in  the 
circles  of  the  gay  world  in  these  ancient  times 
corresponded,  in  most  particulars,  with  the 
beauteous  damsels  whose  smiles  they  were  am- 
bitious to  deserve.  True  it  is  their  merits  would 
make  but  a  very  inconsiderable  impression  upon 
the  heart  of  a  modern  fair;  they  neither  drove 
their  curricles  nor  sported  their  tandems,  for  as 
yet  those  gaudy  vehicles  were  not  even  dreamt 
of,  neither  did  they  distinguish  themselves  by 
their  brilliancy  at  the  table,  and  their  consequent 
renconters  with  watchmen,  for  our  forefathers 
were  of  too  pacific  a  disposition  to  need  those 
guardians  of  the  night,  every  soul  throughout 
the  town  being  sound  asleep  before  nine  o'clock. 
Neither  did  they  establish  their  claims  to  gen- 
tility at  the  expense  of  their  tailors,  for  as  yet 
those  offenders  against  the  pockets  of  society  and 
the  tranquility  of  all  aspiring  young  gentlemen 
were  unknown  in  New  Amsterdam;  every  good 
housewife  made  the  clothes  of  her  husband  and 
family,  and  even  the  goede  vrouw  of  Van  Twiller 
himself  thought  it  no  disparagement  to  cut  out 
her  husband's  hnsey-woolsey  galligaskins. 

Not  but  what  there  were  some  two  or  three 
youngsters  who  manifested  the  first  dawning  of 
what  is  called  fire  and  spirit,  who  held  all  labor 
in  contempt,  skulked  about  docks  and  market- 
places, loitered  in  the  sunshine,  squandered  what 
little  money  they  could  procure  at  hustle-cap  and 
chuck-farthing,  swore,  boxed,  fought  cocks,  and 


Knickerbocker  History  191 

raced  their  neighbors'  horses;  in  short,  who 
promised  to  be  the  wonder,  the  talk,  and  abom- 
ination of  the  town,  had  not  their  styHsh  career 
been  unfortunately  cut  short  by  an  affair  of  honor 
with  a  whipping-post. 

Far  other,  however,  was  the  truly  fashionable 
gentleman  of  those  days.  His  dress,  which 
served  for  both  morning  and  evening,  street  and 
drawing-room,  was  a  linsey-woolsey  coat,  made, 
perhaps,  by  the  fair  hands  of  the  mistress  of  his 
affections,  and  gallantly  bedecked  with  abun- 
dance of  large  brass  buttons;  half  a  score  of 
breeches  heightened  the  proportions  of  his  figure ; 
his  shoes  were  decorated  by  enormous  copper 
buckles;  a  low-crowned,  broad-brimmed  hat 
overshadowed  his  burly  visage;  and  his  hair 
dangled  down  his  back  in  a  queue  of  eelskin. 

Thus  equipped,  he  would  manfully  sally  forth 
with  pipe  in  mouth  to  besiege  some  fair  damsel's 
obdurate  heart — not  such  a  pipe,  good  reader, 
as  that  which  Acis  did  sweetly  tune  in  praise  of 
his  Galatea,  but  one  of  true  Delft  manufacture 
and  furnished  with  a  charge  of  fragrant  tobacco. 
With  this  would  he  resolutely  set  himself  down 
before  the  fortress,  and  rarely  failed,  in  the  pro- 
cess of  time,  to  smoke  the  fair  enemy  into  a  sur- 
render upon  honorable  terms. 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  New  Amster- 
dam could  it  always  have  existed  in  this  state  of 
lowly  simplicity;  but  alas!  the  days  of  childhood 
are  too  sweet  to  last!  Cities,  like  men,  grow  out  of 
them  in  time,  and  are  doomed  alike  to  grow  into 
the  bustle,  the  cares,  and  miseries  of  the  world. 


192 


Knickerbocker  History 


WILLIAM   THE   TESTY 


ILIIELMUS  KIEFT,  who  in 
1G3-1  ascended  the  gubernato- 
rial chair  (to  borrow  a  favorite 
though  chimsy  appellation  of 
modern  phraseologists) ,  was  of 
a  lofty  descent,  his  father  being 
inspector  of  windmills  in  the 
ancient  town  of  Saardam;  and  our  hero,  we  are 
told,  when  a  boy  made  very  curious  investiga- 
tions into  the  nature  and  operation  of  these  ma- 
chines, which  was  one  reason  why  he  afterward 
came  to  be  so  ingenious  a  governor.  His  name, 
according  to  the  most  authentic  etymologists, 
was  a  corruption  of  Kyver — that  is  to  say,  a 
lorangler  or  scolder — and  expressed  the  char- 
acteristic of  his  family,  which  for  nearly  two 
centuries  had  kept  the  windy  town  of  Saardam 
in  hot  water,  and  produced  more  tartars  and 
brimstones  than  any  ten  families  in  the  place; 
and  so  truly  did  he  inherit  this  family  peculiarity 
that  he  had  not  been  a  year  in  the  government 
of  the  province  before  he  was  universally  denom- 
inated William  the  Testy.  His  appearance 
answered  to  his  name.  He  was  a  brisk,  wiry, 
waspish  little  old  gentleman;  such  a  one  as  may 
now  and  then  be  seen  stumping  about  our  city 
in  a  broad-skirted  coat  with  huge  buttons,  a 
cocked  hat  stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  a 
cane  as  high  as  his  chin.  His  face  was  broad, 
but  his  features  were  sharp,  his  cheeks  were 
scorched  into  a  dusky  red  by  two  fiery  little  gray 


Knickerbocker  History 


193 


<3ct>Cx-M     STfVfr<V)T    . 


WILLIAM   THE   TESTY 


eyes;  his  nose  turned  up,  and  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  turned  down,  pretty  much  Uke  the  muzzle 
of  an  irritable  pug-dog. 

I  have  heard  it  observed  by  a  profound  ade})t 
in  human  physiology  that  if  a  woman  waxes  fat 
with  the  progress  of  years,  her  tenure  of  life  is 
somewhat  precarious,  but  if  haply  she  withers 
as  she  grows  old  she  lives  forever.  Such  prom- 
ised to  be  the  case  with  William  the  Testy,  who 
grew  tough  in  proportion  as  he  dried.  He  had 
withered,  in   fact,   not   through   the  process   of 


194  Knickerbocker  History 

years,  but  through  the  tropical  fervor  of  his  soul, 
which  burnt  like  a  vehement  rushlight  in  his 
bosom,  inciting  him  to  incessant  broils  and  bick- 
erings. 

Wilhelmus  Kieft  was  a  great  legislator  on  a 
small  scale,  and  had  a  microscopic  eye  in  public 
affairs.  He  had  been  greatly  annoyed  by  the 
factious  meetings  of  the  good  people  of  New 
Amsterdam,  but,  observing  that  on  these  occa- 
sions the  pipe  was  ever  in  their  mouth,  he  began 
to  think  that  the  pipe  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
affair,  and  that  there  was  some  mysterious  aflSn- 
ity  between  politics  and  tobacco  smoke.  Deter- 
mined to  strike  at  the  root  of  the  evil,  he  began, 
forthwith,  to  rail  at  tobacco  as  a  noxious,  nause- 
ous weed,  filthy  in  all  its  uses;  and  as  to  smoking, 
he  denounced  it  as  a  heavy  tax  upon  the  public 
pocket,  a  vast  consumer  of  time,  a  great  en- 
courager  of  idleness,  and  a  deadly  bane  to  the 
prosperity  and  morals  of  the  people.  Finally, 
he  issued  an  edict  prohibiting  the  smoking  of 
tobacco  throughout  the  New  Netherlands.  Ill- 
fated  Kieft!  Had  he  lived  in  the  present  age 
and  attempted  to  check  the  unbounded  license 
of  the  press,  he  could  not  have  struck  more 
sorely  upon  the  sensibilities  of  the  million.  The 
pipe,  in  fact,  was  the  great  organ  of  reflection 
and  deliberation  of  the  New  Netlierlander.  It 
was  his  constant  companion  and  solace:  was 
he  gay,  he  smoked;  was  he  sad,  he  smoked; 
his  pipe  was  never  out  of  his  mouth;  it  was 
a  part  of  his  physiognomy;  without  it  his 
best  friends  would  not   know  him.    Take  away 


Knickerbocker  History 


195 


his 


pipe 


You 


miocht  as 


well  take  away  his 


nose  I 


The  immediate  effect  of  the  edict  of  William 
the  Testy  was  a  popular  commotion.  A  vast 
multitude,  armed  with  pipes  and  tobacco  boxes 
and    an    immense    supply    of   ammunition,    sat 


themselves   down   before   the 


house 


and  fell  to  smoking  with  tremendous  violence. 


HIS   PIPE  WAS   A   PART  OF   HIS   PHYSIOGNOMY 

The  Testy  William  issued  forth  like  a  wrathful 
spider,  demanding  the  reason  of  this  lawless 
fumigation.  The  sturdy  rioters  replied  by  loll- 
ing back  in  their  seats  and  puffing  away  with 
redoubled  fury,  raising  such  a  murky  cloud  that 
the  governor  was  fain  to  take  refuge  in  the  in- 
terior of  his  castle. 

A  long  negotiation  ensued  through  the  medium 
of  Antony  the  Trumpeter.  The  governor  was  at 
first  wrathful  and  unyielding,  but  was  graduall}' 


19G  Knickerbocker  History 

smoked  into  terms.  He  concluded  by  permitting 
the  smoking  of  tobacco,  but  lie  abolished  the  fair 
long  pipes  used  in  the  days  of  Wouter  Van 
Twiller,  denoting  ease,  tranquillity  and  sobriety 
of  deportment;  these  he  condemned  as  incom- 
patible with  the  dispatch  of  business;  in  place 
whereof  he  substituted  little  captious  short  pipes, 
two  inches  in  length,  which  he  observed  could  be 
stuck  in  one  corner  of  the  mouth  or  twisted  in  the 
hat-band,  and  would  never  be  in  the  wav.  Thus 
ended  this  alarming  insurrection,  which  was  long 
known  by  the  name  of  The  Pipe  Plot,  and  which, 
it  has  been  somewhat  quaintly  observed,  did  end, 
like  most  plots  and  seditions,  in  mere  smoke. 

But  mark,  O  reader!  the  deplorable  evils 
which  did  afterward  result.  The  smoke  of  these 
villainous  little  pipes,  continually  ascending  in  a 
cloud  about  the  nose,  penetrated  into  and  be- 
fogged the  cerebellum,  dried  up  all  the  kindly 
moisture  of  the  brain,  and  rendered  the  people 
who  used  them  as  vaporish  and  testy  as  the  gov- 
ernor himself.  Nay,  what  is  worse,  from  being 
goodly,  burly,  sleek-conditioned  men,  they  be- 
came, like  our  Dutch  yeomanry  who  smoke  short 
pipes,  a  lantern-jawed,  smoke-dried,  leathern- 
hided  race. 

Nor  was  this  all.  From  this  fatal  schism  we 
may  date  the  rise  of  parties  in  Nieuw  Neder- 
landts.  The  rich  burghers,  who  could  afford  to 
be  lazy,  adhered  to  the  ancient  fashion  and 
were  known  as  Long  Pipes;  while  the  lower 
order  were  branded  with  the  plebeian  name  of 
Short  Pipes. 


Knickerbocker  History  197 

peter  the  headstrong 

ETER  STUYVESANT  was  the 

last,  and,  like  the  renowned 
Wouter  Van  Twiller,  the  best,  of 
our  ancient  Dutch  governors. 
Wouter  having  surpassed  all  who 
%\  preceded  him,  and  Pieter  or  Piet, 
as  he  was  sociably  called  by  the 
old  Dutch  burghers,  who  were  ever  prone  to  fa- 
miliarize names,  having  never  been  equalled  by 
any  successor.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  very  man 
fitted  by  Nature  to  retrieve  the  desperate  for- 
tunes of  her  beloved  province,  had  not  the  fates, 
those  most  potent  and  unrelenting  of  all  ancient 
spinsters,  destined  them  to  inextricable  confu- 
sion. 

To  say  merely  that  he  was  a  hero  would  be 
doing  him  great  injustice:  he  was  in  truth  a  com- 
bination of  heroes;  for  he  was  of  a  sturdy,  raw- 
boned  make  like  Ajax  Telamon,  with  a  pair  of 
round  shoulders  that  Hercules  would  have  given 
his  hide  for  (meaning  his  lion's  hide)  when  he 
undertook  to  ease  old  Atlas  of  his  load.  He  was, 
moreover,  as  Plutarch  describes  Coriolanus,  not 
only  terrible  for  the  force  of  his  arm,  but  likewise 
of  his  voice,  which  sounded  as  though  it  came 
out  of  a  barrel;  and,  like  the  self-same  warrior, 
he  possessed  a  sovereign  contempt  for  the  sover- 
eign people,  and  an  iron  aspect  which  was  enough 
of  itself  to  make  the  very  bowels  of  his  adver- 
saries quake  with  terror  and  dismay.  All  this 
martial  excellency  of  appearance  was  inexpres- 

Vol.  IX.— 14. 


198 


Knickerbocker  History 


PETEE  8TUYVESANT 


sibly  heightened  by  an  accidental  advantage 
with  which  I  am  surprised  that  neither  Homer 
nor  Virgil  have  graced  ajiy  of  their  heroes.  This 
was  nothing  less  than  a  wooden  leg,  w^hich  was 
the  only  prize  he  had  gained  in  bravely  fighting 
the  battles  of  his  country,  but  of  which  he  was  so 


Knickerbocker  History  199 

proud  that  he  was  often  heard  to  declare  ho 
valued  it  more  than  all  his  other  limbs  put  to- 
gether; indeed,  so  highly  did  he  esteem  it  that  he 
had  it  gallantly  enchased  and  relieved  with  silver 
devices,  which  caused  it  to  be  related  in  divers 
histories  and  legends  that  he  wore  a  silver  leg. 

Like  that  choleric  warrior  Achilles,  he  was 
somewhat  subject  to  extempore  bursts  of  passion, 
which  were  rather  unpleasant  to  his  favorites  and 
attendants,  whose  perceptions  he  w^as  apt  to 
quicken,  after  the  manner  of  his  illustrious  imi- 
tator, Peter  the  Great,  by  anointing  their  shoul- 
ders w^ith  his  walking-staff. 

He  was,  in  fact,  the  very  reverse  of  his  prede- 
cessors, being  neither  tranquil  and  inert  like 
Walter  the  Doubter,  nor  restless  and  fidgeting 
like  William  the  Testy,  but  a  man,  or  rather  a 
governor,  of  such  uncommon  activity  and  de- 
cision of  mind  that  he  never  sought  nor  accepted 
the  advice  of  others,  depending  l^ravely  upon  his 
single  head,  as  would  a  hero  of  yore  upon  his 
single  arm,  to  carry  him  through  all  difficulties 
and  dangers.  To  tell  the  simple  trutli,  he  wanted 
nothing  more  to  complete  him  as  a  statesman 
than  to  think  always  right,  for  ho  one  can  say  bul 
that  he  always  acted  as  he  thought.  He  was 
never  a  man  to  flinch  when  he  found  himself  in 
a  scrape,  but  to  dash  forward  through  thick  and 
thin,  trusting  by  hook  or  by  crook  to  make  all 
things  straight  in  the  end.  In  a  word,  he  pos- 
sessed in  an  eminent  degree  that  great  quahty  in 
a  statesman  called  perseverance  l)y  the  polite, 
but    nicknamed    obstinacy    by    the    vulgar.     A 


200  Knickerbocker  History 

wonderful  salve  for  official  blunders,  since  he  who 
perseveres  in  error  without  flinching  gets  the 
credit  of  boldness  and  consistency,  while  he  who 
wavers  in  seeking  to  do  what  is  right  gets  stigma- 
tized as  a  trimmer.  This  much  is  certain — and 
it  is  a  maxim  well  worthy  the  attention  of  all 
legislators  great  and  small  who  stand  shaking  in 
the  wind,  irresolute  which  way  to  steer — that  a 
ruler  who  follows  his  own  will  pleases  himself, 
while  he  who  seeks  to  satisfy  the  wishes  and 
whims  of  others  runs  great  risk  of  pleasing  no- 
body. There  is  nothing,  too,  like  putting  down 
one's  foot  resolutely  when  in  doubt,  and  letting 
things  take  their  course.  The  clock  that  stands 
still  points  right  twice  in  the  four  and  twenty 
hours,  while  others  may  keep  going  continually 
and  be  continuallv  ffoing  wrong;. 

Nor  did  this  magnanimous  quality  escape  the 
discernment  of  the  good  people  of  Nieuw'  Neder- 
landts;  on  the  contrary,  so  much  were  they  struck 
with  the  independent  will  and  vigorous  resolu- 
tion displayed  on  all  occasions  by  their  new 
governor  that  they  universally  called  him  Hard- 
Koppig  Piet,  or  Peter  the  Headstrong — a  great 
compliment  to  the  strength  of  his  understanding. 


Knickerbocker  History 


201 


THE    BATTLE    WITH   THE   SWEDES 


OW  had  the  Dutchmen  snatched 
a    huge    repast,"    and,    finding 


encour- 


themselves  wonderfully 
aged  and  animated  thereby,  pre- 
pared to  take  the  field.  Ex- 
pectation, says  the  writer  of  the 
Stuyvesant  manuscript — expec- 
tation now  stood  on  stilts.  The  world  forgot  to 
turn  round,  or  rather  stood  still,  that  it  might 
witness  the  afi'ray,  like  a  round-bellied  alderman 
watching  the  combat  of  two  chivalrous  flies  upon 
his  jerkin.  The  eyes  of  all  mankind,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  were  turned  upon  Fort  Christina. 
The  sun,  like  a  little  man  in  a  crowd  at  a  puppet- 
show,  scampered  about  the  heavens,  popping  his 
head  here  and  there,  and  endeavoring  to  get  a 
peep  between  the  unmannerly  clouds  that  ob- 
truded themselves  in  his  way.  The  historians 
filled  their  inkhorns;  the  poets  went  without  their 
dinners,  either  that  they  might  buy  paper  and 
goose-quills  or  because  they  could  not  get  any- 
thing to  eat;  Antiquity  scowled  sulkily  out  of  its 
grave  to  see  itself  outdone,  while  even  Posterity 
stood  mute,  gazing  in  gaping  ecstasy  of  retro- 
spection on  the  eventful  field. 

The  immortal  deities,  who  whilom  had  seen 
service  at  the  "aflair"  of  Troy,  now  mounted 
their  feather-bed  clouds  and  sailed  over  the  plain, 
or  mingled  among  the  combatants  in  dilferent 
disguises,  all  itching  to  have  a  finger  in  the  pie. 
Jupiter  sent  off  his  thunderbolt  to  ;i  noted  cop» 


•2012  Knickerbocker  History 

persmith  to  have  it  furbished  up  for  the  direful 
occasion.  The  noted  bully  Mars  stuck  two 
horse-pistols  into  his  belt,  shouldered  a  rusty 
firelock,  and  gallantly  swaggered  at  the  elbow  of 
the  Swedes  as  a  drunken  corporal;  while  Apollo 
trudged  in  their  rear  as  a  bandy-legged  fifer,  play- 
ing most  villainously  out  of  tune. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  ox-eyed  Juno,  who  had 
gained  a  pair  of  black  eyes  overnight  in  one  of 
her  curtain  lectures  with  old  Jupiter,  displayed 
her  liaughty  beauties  on  a  baggage  wagon;  while 
Vulcan  halted  as  a  club-footed  blacksmith  lately 
promoted  to  be  a  captain  of  militia.  All  was 
silent  awe  or  bustling  preparation:  War  reared 
his  horrid  front,  gnashed  loud  his  iron  fangs,  and 
shook  his  direful  crest  of  bristling  bayonets. 

And  now  the  mighty  chieftains  marshalled  out 
their  hosts.  Here  stood  stout  Risingh,  firm  as  a 
thousand  rocks,  incrusted  with  stockades,  and 
intrenched  to  the  chin  in  mud  batteries.  He  was 
a  gigantic  Swede,  who,  had  he  not  been  rather 
knock-kneed  and  splay-footed,  might  have  served 
for  the  model  of  a  Samson  or  a  Hercules.  He 
was  no  less  rapacious  than  mighty,  and  withal 
as  crafty  as  he  was  rapacious,  so  that  there  is 
very  little  doubt  that  had  he  lived  some  four  or 
five  centuries  since  he  would  have  figured  as  one 
of  those  wicked  giants  who  took  a  cruel  pleasure 
in  pocketing  beautiful  princesses  and  distressed 
damsels  when  gadding  about  the  world,  and 
locking  them  up  in  enchanted  castles  without  a 
toilet,  a  change  of  linen,  or  any  other  con- 
venience;  in   consequence   of  which   enormities 


Knickerbocker  History  '203 

they  fell  under  the  high  displeasure  of  chivalry, 
and  all  true,  loyal,  and  gallant  knights  were  in- 
structed to  attack  and  slay  outright  any  miscre- 
ant they  might  happen  to  find  above  six  feet 
high;  which  is  doubtless  one  reason  why  the 
race  of  large  men  is  nearly  extinct,  and  the 
generations  of  latter  ages  are  so  exceedingly 
small.  His  valiant  soldiery  lined  the  breast- 
works in  grim  array,  each  having  his  mustachios 
fiercely  greased  and  his  hair  pomatumed  back, 
and  queued  so  stiffly  that  he  grinned  above  the 
ramparts  like  a  grisly  death's  head. 

There  came  on  the  intrepid  Peter,  his  brows 
knit,  his  teeth  set,  his  fists  clinched,  almost 
breathing  forth  volumes  of  smoke,  so  fierce  was 
the  fire  that  raged  within  his  bosom.  His  faith- 
ful squire  Van  Corlear  trudged  valiantly  at  his 
heels,  with  his  trumpet  gorgeously  bedecked  with 
red  and  yellow  ribbons,  the  remembrances  of  his 
fair  mistress  at  the  INIanhattoes.  Then  came 
waddling  on  the  sturdy  chivalry  of  the  Hudson. 
There  were  the  Van  Wycks,  and  the  Van  Dycks, 
and  the  Ten  E}cks;  the  Van  Nesses,  the  Van 
Tassels,  the  Van  Grools,  the  Van  Hoesens,  the 
Van  Giesons,  and  the  Van  Blarcoms;  the  Van 
Warts,  the  Van  Winkles,  the  Van  Dams;  the 
Van  Pelts,  the  Van  Rippers  and  the  Van  Brunts. 
There  were  the  Van  Homes,  the  Van  Hooks, 
the  Van  Bunschotens;  the  Van  Gelders,  the 
Van  Arsdales,  and  the  Van  Bummcls;  the 
Vander  Belts,  the  Vander  Hoofs  and  the  Vander 
Voorts,  the  ^'ander  Tams,  the  Vander  Pools  and 
the  Vjinder  Spiegles.      There  came  the  Hofl'mans, 


204  Knickerbocker  History 

the  Hooghlands,  the  Hoppers,  the  Cloppers,  the 
Ryckmans,  the  Dyckmans,  the  Hogebooms,  the 
Rosebooms,  the  Oothouts,  the  Quackenbosses, 
the  Roerbacks,  the  Garrebrantzes,  the  Bensons, 
the  Brouwers,  the  Waldrons,  the  Onderdonks, 
the  Varra  Vangers,  the  Schermerhorns,  the 
Stoutenburghs,  the  Brinkerhoffs,  the  Bontecous, 
the  Knickerbockers,  the  Hockstrassers,  the  Ten 
Breecheses,  and  the  Tough  Breecheses,  with  a 
host  more  of  worthies  whose  names  are  too 
crabbed  to  be  written,  or  if  they  could  be  written 
it  would  be  impossible  for  man  to  utter — all 
fortified  with  a  mighty  dinner,  and,  to  use  the 
words  of  a  great  Dutch  poet: 

"Brimful  of  wrath  and  cabbage/* 

For  an  instant  the  mighty  Peter  paused  in  the 
midst  of  his  career,  and,  mounting  on  a  stump, 
addressed  his  troops  in  eloquent  Low  Dutch, 
exhorting  them  to  fight  like  duyvels,  and  assuring 
them  that  if  they  conquered  they  should  get 
plenty  of  booty;  if  they  fell  they  should  be 
allowed  the  satisfaction,  while  dying,  of  reflecting 
that  it  was  in  the  service  of  their  country,  and 
after  they  were  dead  of  seeing  their  names  in- 
scribed in  the  temple  of  renown,  and  handed 
down,  in  company  with  all  the  other  great  men 
of  the  year,  for  the  admiration  of  posterity. 
Finally,  he  swore  to  them,  on  the  word  of  a 
governor  (and  they  knew  him  too  well  to  doubt 
it  for  a  moment),  that  if  he  caught  any  mother's 
son  of  them  looking  pale  or  playing  craven,  he 
would  curry  his  hide  till  he  made  him  run  out  of 


Knickerbocker  History  205 

it  like  a  snake  in  spring-time.  Then,  lugging 
out  his  trusty  saber,  he  brandished  it  three  times 
over  his  head,  ordered  Van  Corlear  to  sound  the 
charge,  and,  shouting  the  words,  "Saint  Nicholas 
and  the  Manhattoes ! "  courageously  dashed  for- 
ward. His  warlike  followers,  who  had  employed 
the  interval  in  lighting  their  pipes,  instantly 
stuck  them  into  their  mouths,  gave  a  furious 
puff,  and  charged  gallantly  under  cover  of  the 
smoke. 

The  Swedish  garrison,  ordered  by  the  cunning 
Risingh  not  to  fire  until  they  could  distinguish 
the  whites  of  their  assailants'  eyes,  stood  in 
horrid  silence  on  the  covert-way  until  the  eager 
Dutchmen  had  ascended  the  glacis.  Then  did 
they  pour  into  them  such  a  tremendous  volley 
that  the  very  hills  quaked  around,  and  certain 
springs  burst  forth  from  their  sides  which  con- 
tinue to  run  unto  the  present  day.  Not  a  Dutch- 
man but  would  have  bitten  the  dust  beneath 
that  dreadful  fire  had  not  the  protecting  Minerva 
kindly  taken  care  that  the  Swedes  should,  one 
and  all,  observe  their  usual  custom  of  shutting 
their  eyes  and  turning  away  their  heads  at  the 
moment  of  discharge. 

The  Swedes  followed  up  their  fire  by  leaping 
the  counterscarp  and  falling  tooth  and  nail  upon 
the  foe  with  furious  outcries.  And  now  mijiht 
be  seen  prodigies  of  valor  unmatched  in  history 
or  song.  Here  was  the  sturdy  StufTel  BrinkerhofT 
brandishing  his  quarter-staff,  like  the  giant 
Blanderon  his  oak  tree  (for  he  scorned  to  carry 
any  other  weapon),   and   drumming  a   horrific 


206  Knickerbocker  History 

tune  upon  the  hard  heads  of  the  Swedish  soldiery. 
There  were  tlie  Van  Kortlandts,  posted  at  a 
distance,  Hke  the  Locrian  archers  of  yore,  and 
plying  it  most  potently  with  the  long-bow,  for 
which  they  were  so  justly  renowned.  On  a 
rising  knoll  were  gathered  the  valiant  men  of 
Sing-Sino-,  assisting;  marvelouslv  in  the  fight  by 
chanting  the  great  song  of  Saint  Nicholas;  but  as 
to  the  Gardeniers  of  Hudson,  they  were  absent 
on  a  marauding-party,  laying  waste  the  neigh- 
boring watermelon-patches. 

In  a  different  part  of  the  field  were  the  Van 
Grolls  of  Antony's  nose,  struggling  to  get  to  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  but  horribly  perplexed  in  a 
defile  between  two  hills  by  reason  of  the  length 
of  their  noses.  So  also  the  Van  Bunschotens  of 
Nyack  and  Kakiat,  so  renowned  for  kicking  with 
the  left  foot,  were  brought  to  a  stand  for  want  of 
^4nd  in  consequence  of  the  hearty  dinner  they 
had  eaten  and  would  have  been  put  to  utter  rout, 
but  for  the  arrival  of  a  gallant  corps  of  voltigeurs, 
composed  of  the  Hoppers,  who  advanced  nimbly 
to  their  assistance  on  one  foot.  Nor  must  I  omit 
to  mention  the  valiant  achievements  of  Antony 
Van  Corlear,  who  for  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour 
waged  stubborn  fight  with  a  little  pursy  Swedish 
drummer,  whose  hide  he  drummed  most  mag- 
nificently, and  whom  he  would  infallibly  have 
annihilated  on  the  spot  but  that  he  had  come  into 
the  battle  with  no  other  weapon  but  his  trumpet. 

But  now  the  combat  thickened.  On  came  the 
mighty  Jacobus  Varra  Vanger  and  the  fighting 
men  of  the  Wallabout;  after  them  thundered  the 


Knickerbocker  History  207 

Van  PeltiN  of  Esopus,  together  with  the  Van 
Rippers  and  the  Van  Brunts,  bearing  down  all 
before  them;  then  the  Suy  Dams  and  the  Van 
Dams,  pressing  fonvard  with  many  a  blustering 
oath  at  the  head  of  the  warriors  of  Hell-Gate,  clad 
in  their  thunder-and-lightning  gaberdines;  and 
lastly  the  standard-bearers  and  body-guards  of 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  bearing  the  great  beaver  of  the 
Manhattoes. 

And  now  commenced  the  horrid  din,  the 
desperate  struggle,  the  maddening  ferocity,  the 
frantic  desperation,  the  confusion  and  self- 
abandonment  of  war.  Dutchman  and  Swede, 
commingled,  tugged,  panted,  and  blowed.  The 
heavens  were  darkened  with  a  tempest  of  missiles. 
Bang!  went  the  guns — whack!  went  the  broad- 
swords— thump!  went  the  cudgels — crash!  went 
the  musket-stocks — blows,  kicks,  cuffs,  scratches, 
black  eves,  and  bloodv  noses  swelling;  the  horrors 
of  the  scene!  Thick  thwack,  cut  and  hack, 
helter-skelter,  higgledy-piggledy,  hurly-burly, 
head  over  heels,  rough  and  tumble!  Dunder 
and  blixum!  swore  the  Dutchmen;  splitter  aTid 
splutter!  cried  the  Swedes;  storm  the  works! 
shouted  Hardkoppig  Pieter;  fire  the  mine!  roared 
stout  Risingh;  tanta-ra-ra-ra !  twanged  the  trum- 
pet of  Antony  Van  Corlear — until  all  voice  and 
sound  became  unintelligible,  grunts  of  pain,  yells 
of  fury,  and  shouts  of  triumph  mingling  in  one 
hideous  clamor.  The  earth  shook  as  if  struck 
with  a  paralytic  stroke — trees  shrunk  aghast  and 
withered  at  the  sight — rocks  burrowed  in  the 
frrou!i(l  ]']]<('  rabbits — and  even  Christina  Creek 


xM)8  Knickerbocker  History 

turned  from  its  course  and  ran  up  a  hill  in  breath- 
less terror! 

Long  hung  the  contest  doubtful,  for  though  a 
heavy  shower  of  rain,  sent  by  the  "cloud- 
compelling  Jove,"  in  some  measure  cooled  their 
ardor,  as  doth  a  bucket  of  water  thrown  on  a 
group  of  fighting  mastifl's,  yet  did  they  but  pause 
for  a  moment,  to  return  with  tenfold  fury  to  the 
charge.  Just  at  this  juncture  a  vast  and  dense 
column  of  smoke  was  seen  slowly  rolling  toward 
the  scene  of  battle.  The  combatants  paused  for 
a  moment,  gazing  in  mute  astonishment,  until 
the  wind,  dispelling  the  murky  cloud,  revealed 
the  flaunting  banner  of  Michael  Paw,  the  patroon 
of  Communipaw.  That  valiant  chieftain  came 
fearlessly  on  at  the  head  of  a  phalanx  of  oyster-fed 
Pavonians  and  a  corps  de  reserve  of  the  Van 
Arsdales  and  Van  Bummels,  who  had  remained 
behind  to  digest  the  enormous  dinner  they  had 
eaten.  These  now  trudged  manfully  forward, 
smoking  their  pipes  with  outrageous  vigor,  so  as 
to  raise  the  awful  cloud  that  has  been  mentioned ; 
but  marching  exceedingly  slow,  being  short  of 
leg  and  of  great  rotundity  in  the  belt. 

And  now  the  deities  who  watched  over  the 
fortunes  of  the  Nederlandters  having  unthink- 
ingly left  the  field  and  stepped  into  a  neighboring 
tavern  to  refresh  themselves  with  a  pot  of  beer, 
a  direful  catastrophe  had  well-nigh  ensued. 
Scarce  had  the  myrmidons  of  Michael  Paw 
attained  the  front  of  battle,  when  the  Swedes, 
instructed  by  the  cunning  Risingh,  levelled  a 
shower    of    blows    full    at    their    tobacco-pipes. 


Knickerbocker  History  209 

Astounded  at  this  assault  and  dismayed  at  the 
havoc  of  their  pipes,  these  ponderous  warriors 
gave  way  and  Uke  a  drove  of  frightened  elephants 
broke  through  the  ranks  of  their  own  army. 
The  little  Hoppers  were  borne  down  in  the  surge; 
the  sacred  banner  emblazoned  with  the  gigantic 
oyster  of  Communipaw  was  trampled  in  the 
dirt;  on  blundered  and  thundered  the  heavy- 
sterned  fugitives,  the  Swedes  pressing  on  their 
rear  and  applying  their  feet  a  j^cirte  poste  of  the 
Van  Arsdales  and  the  Van  Bummels  with  a  vigor 
that  prodigiously  accelerated  their  movements, 
nor  did  the  renowned  INIichael  Paw  himself 
fail  to  receive  divers  grievous  and  dishonorable 
visitations  of  shoe-leather. 

But  what,  O  Muse!  was  the  rage  of  Peter 
Stuyvesant  when  from  afar  he  saw  his  army 
giving  way!  In  the  transports  of  his  wrath  he 
sent  forth  a  roar  enough  to  shake  the  very  hills. 
The  men  of  the  Manhattocs  plucked  up  new 
courage  at  the  sound,  or,  rather,  they  rallied 
at  the  voice  of  their  leader,  of  whom  they  stood 
more  in  awe  than  of  all  the  Swedes  in  Christen- 
dom. Without  waiting  for  their  aid  the  daring 
Peter  dashed,  sword  in  hand,  into  the  thickest 
of  the  foe.  Then  might  be  seen  achievements 
worthy  of  the  days  of  the  giants.  AYherever 
he  went  the  enemy  shrank  before  him;  the 
Swedes  fled  to  right  and  left  or  were  driven, 
like  dogs,  into  their  own  ditch;  but  as  he  pushed 
forward  singly  with  headlong  courage  the  foe 
closed  behind  and  hung  upon  his  rear.  One 
aimed  a  blow  full  at  his  heart;  but  the  protecting 


'210  Knickerbocker  Histort 

power  which  watches  over  the  great  and  good 
turned  aside  the  hostile  blade  and  directed  it 
to  a  side-pocket,  where  reposed  an  enormous 
iron  tobacco-box,  endowed,  like  the  shield  of 
Achilles,  with  supernatural  powers,  doubtless 
from  bearing  the  portrait  of  the  blessed  Saint 
Nicholas.  Peter  Stuyvesant  turned  like  an 
angry  bear  upon  the  foe,  and  seizing  him  as  he 
fled  by  an  immeasurable  queue,  "All,  cater- 
pillar!" roared  he,  "here's  what  shall  make 
worm's  meat  of  thee!"  So  saying,  he  whirled 
his  sword  and  dealt  a  blow  that  would  have 
decapitated  the  varlet,  but  that  the  pitying  steel 
struck  short  and  shaved  the  queue  forever  from 
his  crown.  At  this  moment  an  arquebusier 
levelled  his  piece  from  a  neighboring  mound 
with  deadly  aim;  but  the  watchful  Minerva, 
who  had  just  stopped  to  tie  up  her  garter,  seeing 
the  peril  of  her  favorite  hero,  sent  old  Boreas 
with  his  bellows,  who  as  the  match  descended 
to  the  pan  gave  a  blast  that  blew  the  priming 
from  the  touch-hole. 

Thus  waged  the  fight,  when  the  stout  Risingh, 
surve}ing  the  field  from  the  top  of  a  little  ravelin, 
perceived  his  troops  banged,  beaten,  and  kicked 
by  the  invincible  Peter.  Drawing  his  falchion 
and  uttering  a  thousand  anathemas,  he  strode 
down  to  the  scene  of  combat  with  some  such 
thundering  strides  as  Jupiter  is  said  by  Hesiod 
to  have  taken  when  he  strode  down  the  spheres 
to  hurl  his  thunderbolts  at  the  Titans. 

When  the  rival  heroes  came  face  to  face  each 
made  a  prodigious  start  in  the  style  of  a  veteran 


Knickerbocker  History  211 

stage  champion.  Then  did  they  regard  each 
other  for  a  moment  with  the  bitter  aspect  of 
two  furious  tom-cats  on  the  point  of  a  clapper- 
clawing. Then  did  they  throw  themselves  into 
one  attitude,  then  into  another,  striking  their 
swords  on  the  ground  first  on  the  right  side, 
then  on  the  left;  at  last  at  it  they  went  with  in- 
credible ferocity.  Words  cannot  tell  the  prodigies 
of  strength  and  valor  displayed  in  this  direful 
encounter — an  encounter  compared  to  which 
the  far-famed  battles  of  Ajax  with  Hector,  of 
.Eneas  with  Turnus,  Orlando  with  Rodomont, 
Guy  of  Warwick  with  Colbrand  the  Dane,  or 
of  that  renowned  Welsh  knight  Sir  Owen  of 
the  mountains  with  the  giant  Guy  Ion,  were  all 
gentle  sports  and  holiday  recreations.  At  length 
the  valiant  Peter,  watching  his  opportunity, 
aimed  a  blow,  enough  to  cleave  his  adversary 
to  the  very  chine;  but  Risingh  nimbly  raising  his 
sword,  warded  it  off  so  narrowly  that  glancing 
on  one  side,  it  shaved  away  a  huge  canteen  in 
which  he  carried  his  liquor;  thence,  pursuing  its 
trenchant  course,  it  severed  off  a  deep  coat- 
pocket  stored  with  bread  and  cheese;  which 
provant,  rolling  among  the  armies,  occasioned  a 
fearful  scrambling  between  the  Swedes  and 
Dutchmen,  and  made  the  general  battle  to  wax 
ten  times  more  furious  than  ever. 

Enraged  to  see  his  military  stores  laid  waste, 
the  stout  Risingh,  collecting  all  his  forces,  aimed 
a  micrhty  blow  full  at  the  hero's  crest.  In  vain 
did  his  fierce  little  cocked  hat  op})ose  its  course. 
The  biting  steel  clove  through  the  stubborn  ram 


212  Knickerbocker  History 

beaver,  and  would  have  cracked  the  crown  ot  any 
one  not  endowed  with  supernatural  hardness  of 
head;  but  the  brittle  weapon  shivered  in  pieces 
on  the  skull  of  Ilardkoppig  Pict,  shedding  a 
thousand  sparks  like  beams  of  glory  round  his 
grizzly  visage. 

The  good  Peter  reeled  with  the  blow,  and, 
turning  up  his  eyes,  beheld  a  thousand  suns, 
beside  moons  and  stars,  dancing  about  the 
firmament.  At  length,  missing  his  footing  by 
reason  of  his  wooden  leg,  down  he  came  on  his 
seat  of  honor  with  a  crash  which  shook  the  sur- 
rounding hills,  and  might  have  wrecked  his 
frame  had  he  not  been  received  into  a  cushion 
softer  than  velvet  which  Providence  or  Minerva 
or  Saint  Nicholas  had  benevolently  prepared  for 
his  reception. 

The  furious  Risingh,  in  despite  of  the  maxim, 
cherished  by  all  true  knights,  that  *'fair  play  is  a 
jewel,"  hastened  to  take  advantage  of  the  hero's 
fall;  but  as  he  stooped  to  give  a  fatal  blow,  Peter 
Stuyvesant  dealt  him  a  thwack  over  the  sconce 
with  his  wooden  leg,  which  set  a  chime  of  bells 
ringing  triple  bobmajors  in  his  cerebellum.  The 
bewildered  Swede  staggered  with  the  blow,  and 
the  wary  Peter,  seizing  a  pocket-pistol  which  lay 
hard  by,  discharged  it  full  at  the  head  of  the 
reeling  Risingh.  Let  not  my  reader  mistake:  it 
was  not  a  murderous  weapon  loaded  with  powder 
and  ball,  but  a  little  sturdy  stone  pottle  charged 
to  the  muzzle  with  a  double  dram  of  true  Dutch 
courage,  which  the  knowing  Antony  Van  Corlear 
carried  about  him  by  way  of  replenishing  his 


I 
Knicelerbocker  History  213 

valor,  and  which  had  dropped  from  his  wallet 
during  his  furious  encounter  with  the  drummer. 
The  hideous  weapon  sang  through  the  air,  and 
true  to  its  course  as  was  the  fragment  of  a  rock 
discharged  at  Hector  by  bully  Ajax,  encountered 
the  head  of  the  gigantic  Swede  with  matchless 
violence. 

This  heaven-directed  blow  decided  the  battle. 
The  ponderous  pericranium  of  General  Jan 
Risingh  sank  upon  his  breast,  his  knees  tottered 
under  him,  a  death-like  torpor  seized  upon  his 
frame,  and  he  tumbled  to  the  earth  with  such 
violence  that  old  Pluto  started  with  affright,  lest 
he  should  have  broken  through  the  roof  of  his 
infernal  palace. 

His  fall  was  the  signal  of  defeat  and  victory 
the  Swedes  gave  way,  the  Dutch  pressed  forward ; 
the  former  took  to  their  heels,  the  latter  hotly 
pursued.  Some  entered  with  them,  pell-mell, 
through  the  sally-port;  others  stormed  the  bas- 
tion, and  others  scrambled  over  the  curtain. 
Thus  in  a  little  while  the  fortress  of  Fort  Chris- 
tina, which,  like  another  Troy,  had  stood  a  siege 
of  full  ten  hours,  was  carried  by  assault  without 
the  loss  of  a  single  man  on  either  side.  Victory, 
in  the  likeness  of  a  gigantic  ox-fly,  sat  perched 
upon  the  cocked  hat  of  the  gallant  Stuyvesant, 
and  it  was  declared  by  all  the  writers  whom  he 
hired  to  write  the  history  of  his  expedition  that 
on  this  memorable  day  he  gained  a  suflScient 
quantity  of  glory  to  immortalize  a  dozen  of  the 
greatest  heroes  in  Christendom ! 

Vol  IX  — la. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAK 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY 

Note, — The  great  naval  hero  of  England  is 
Horatio,  Viscount  Nelson,  who  was  born  in 
September,  1758,  in  a  country  village  of  Nor- 
folk. Under  the  guardianship  of  his  uncle, 
Captain  Suckling,  he  entered  the  navy  as  a  mid- 
shipman when  he  was  but  twelve  years  old,  and 
he  was  promoted  rapidly.  By  the  time  war 
broke  out  with  France  in  1793  he  had  risen  so 
high  that  he  was  made  commander  of  the  sixty- 
four  gun  ship  Agamevmon.  He  took  part  in  the 
sieges  at  Bastia  and  at  Calvi,  and  in  the  latter 
engagement  he  lost  his  right  eye. 

In  1797  he  was  made  rear-admiral,  and  he 
received  other  honors  in  that  year  for  his  con- 
spicuous gallantry  in  the  great  battle  of  Cape 
Saint  Vincent.  In  an  unsuccessful  attack  on 
Santa  Cruz,  in  the  island  of  Teneriffe,  Nelson 
lost  his  right  arm.  The  first  of  his  very  great 
achievements  was  the  destruction  of  the  French 
fleet  in  the  Battle  of  Aboukir  Bay,  in  1798;  the 
last  was  the  famous  Battle  of  Trafalgar,  the 
account  of  which  we  quote  from  Southey's  Life 
of  Nelson. 

Nelson  had  been  made,  in  1803,  Commander 
in  Chief  of  the  Mediterranean  fleet,  and  on  his 
flagship  Victory  had  spent  tw^o  years  watching 
the  French  and  hampering  their  movements. 
He  prevented  Napoleon  from  invading  England. 

'jt4 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  ^15 


T  Portsmouth,  Nelson,  at  length, 
found  news  of  the  combined 
fleet.  Sir  Robert  Calder,  who 
had  been  sent  out  to  intercept 
their  return,  had  fallen  in  with 
them  on  the  22nd  of  Julv,  sixtv 
leagues  west  of  Cape  Finisterre. 
Their  force  consisted  of  twenty  sail  of  the  line, 
three  fifty-gun  ships,  five  frigates,  and  two  brigs: 
his,  of  fifteen  line  of  battle  ships,  two  frigates,  a 
cutter,  and  a  lugger.  After  an  action  of  four 
hours  he  had  captured  an  84  and  a  74,  and  then 
thought  it  necessary  to  bring-to  the  squadron, 
for  the  purpose  of  securing  their  prizes.  The 
hostile  fleets  remained  in  sight  of  each  other  till 
the  26th,  when  the  enemy  bore  away. 

The  capture  of  two  ships  from  so  superior  a 
force,  would  have  been  considered  as  no  incon- 
siderable victory  a  few  years  earlier;  but  Nelson 
had  introduced  a  new  era  in  our  naval  history, 
and  the  nation  felt,  respecting  this  action,  as  he 
had  felt  on  a  somewhat  similar  occasion.  They 
regretted  that  Nelson,  with  his  eleven  ships,  had 
not  been  in  Sir  Robert  Calder's  place;  and  their 
disappointment  was  generally  and  loudly  ex- 
pressed. 

Frustrated  as  his  own  hopes  had  been.  Nelson 
had  yet  the  high  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
his  judgment  had  never  been  more  conspicuously 
approved,  and  that  he  had  rendered  essential 
service  to  his  country  by  driving  the  enemy  from 
those  islands,  where  they  expected  there  could 
be   no   force   capable   of  opjjosing   them.     The 


^16  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

West  India  merchants  in  London,  as  men  whose 
interests  were  more  immediately  benefited,  ap- 
pointed a  deputation  to  express  their  thanks  for 
his  great  and  judicious  exertions.  It  was  now 
his  intention  to  rest  awhile  from  his  labours,  and 
recruit  himself,  after  all  his  fatigues  and 
cares,  in  the  society  of  those  whom  he  loved. 
All  his  stores  were  brought  up  from  the  Victory; 
and  he  found  in  his  house  at  Merton  the  enjoy- 
ment which  he  had  anticipated. 

Many  days  had  not  elapsed  before  Captain 
Blackwood,  on  his  way  to  London  with  des- 
patches, called  on  him  at  five  in  the  morning. 
Nelson,  who  was  already  dressed,  exclaimed,  the 
moment  he  saw  him:  "I  am  sure  you  bring  me 
news  of  the  French  and  Spanish  fleets!  I  think 
I  shall  yet  have  to  beat  them ! " 

They  had  refitted  at  Vigo,  after  the  indecisive 
action  with  Sir  Robert  Calder;  then  proceeded  to 
Ferrol,  brought  out  the  squadron  from  thence, 
and  with  it  entered  Cadiz  in  safety. 

"Depend  on  it,  Blackwood,"  he  said, "I  shall 
give  M.  Villeneuve  a  drubbing." 

But,  when  Blackwood  had  left  him,  he  wanted 
resolution  to  declare  his  wishes  to  Lady  Hamilton 
and  his  sisters,  and  endeavored  to  drive  away 
the  thought.  "I  have  done  enough,"  he  said; 
"let  the  man  trudge  it  who  has  lost  his  budget." 

His  countenance  belied  his  lips;  and  as  he 
was  pacing  one  of  the  walks  in  the  garden,  which 
he  used  to  call  the  quarter-deck,  Lady  Hamilton 
came  up  to  him,  and  told  him  she  saw  he  was 
uneasy. 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 


217 


LADY   H.\iIILTON   C.VME   UP   TO   HIM 


He  smiled  and  said:  "No,  I  am  as  happy  as 
possible;  I  am  surrounded  by  my  family;  my 
health  is  better  since  I  have  been  on  shore,  and  I 
would  not  give  sixpence  to  call  the  Idng  my 
uncle!" 

She  replied,  that  she  did  not  believe  him, — that 
she  knew  he  was  longing  to  get  at  the  combined 
fleets, — that  he  considered  them  as  his  own  prop- 


«18  The  Battle  of  Tilifalgar 

erty — that  he  would  be  miserable  if  any  man 
but  himself  did  the  business,  and  that  he 
ought  to  have  them,  as  the  price  and  reward 
of  his  two  years'  long  watching,  and  his  hard 
chase. 

"Nelson,"  said  she,  "however  we  may  lament 
your  absence,  offer  your  services;  they  will  be 
accepted,  and  you  will  gain  a  quiet  heart  by  it: 
you  will  have  a  glorious  victory,  and  then  you 
may  return  here  and  be  happy."  He  looked  at 
her  with  tears  in  his  eyes — "Brave  Emma! 
Good  Emma! — If  there  were  more  Emmas  there 
would  be  more  Nelsons." 

His  services  were  as  willingly  accepted  as  they 
were  offered ;  and  Lord  Barham,  giving  him 
the  list  of  the  nav}%  desired  him  to  choose  his 
own  officers. 

"Choose  yourself,  my  lord,"  was  his  reply: 
"the  same  spirit  actuates  the  whole  profession: 
you  cannot  choose  wrong." 

Lord  Barham  then  desired  him  to  say  what 
ships,  and  how  many,  he  would  wish,  in  addition 
to  the  fleet  which  he  was  going  to  command,  and 
said  they  should  follow  him  as  soon  as  each  was 
ready. 

No  appointment  was  ever  more  in  unison  with 
the  feelings  and  judgment  of  the  whole  nation. 
They,  like  Lady  Hamilton,  thought  that  the 
destruction  of  the  combined  fleets  ought  properly 
to  be  Nelson's  work:  that  he,  who  had  been 

"Half  around  the  sea-girt  ball, 
The  hunter  of  the  recreant  Gaul,'* 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  219 

ought  to  reap  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  which  he 
had  watched  so  long,  and  so  perseveringly  pur- 
sued. 

Unremitting  exertions  were  made  to  equip 
the  ships  which  he  had  chosen,  and  especially  to 
refit  the  Victorij,  which  was  once  more  to  bear 
his  flag. 

Before  he  left  London  he  called  at  his  up- 
holsterer's, where  the  coffin,  which  Captain 
Hallowell  had  given  him,  was  deposited;  and 
desired  that  its  history  might  be  engraven  upon 
the  lid,  saying,  it  was  highly  probable  that  he 
might  want  it  on  his  return.  He  seemed, 
indeed,  to  have  been  impressed  with  an  ex- 
pectation that  he  should  fall  in  the  battle.  In  a 
letter  to  his  brother,  written  immediately  after 
his  return,  he  had  said:  "We  must  not  talk  of 
Sir  Robert  Calder's  battle — I  might  not  have 
done  so  much  with  my  small  force.  If  I  had 
fallen  in  with  them,  you  might  probably  have 
been  a  lord  before  I  wished;  for  I  know  they 
meant  to  make  a  dead  set  at  the  Victory. ^^ 

Nelson  had  once  regarded  the  prospect  of 
death  with  gloomy  satisfaction:  it  was  when  he 
anticipated  the  upbraidings  of  his  wife,  and  the 
displeasure  of  his  venerable  father.  The  state  of 
his  feelings  now  was  expressed,  in  his  private 
journal,  in  these  words: 

"Friday  night  (Sept.  13),  at  half-past  ten,  T 
drove  from  dear,  dear  Merton,  where  I  left  all 
which  I  hold  dear  in  this  world,  to  go  to  serve  my 
king  and  country.  ^lay  the  great  God,  whom  1 
adore,  enable  me  to  fulfil  the  expectations  of  niv 


220  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

country!  and,  if  it  is  His  good  pleasure  that  I 
should  return,  my  thanks  will  never  cease  being 
offered  up  to  the  throne  of  His  mercy.  If  it  is 
His  good  providence  to  cut  short  my  days  upon 
earth,  I  bow  with  the  greatest  submission; 
relying  that  He  will  protect  those  so  dear  to  me, 
whom  I  may  leave  behind!  His  will  be  done! 
Amen!  Amen!  Amen!" 

Early  on  the  following  morning  he  reached 
Portsmouth;  and,  having  despatched  his  business 
on  shore,  endeavoured  to  elude  the  populace  by 
taking  a  by-way  to  the  beach;  but  a  crowd  col- 
lected in  his  train,  pressing  forward  to  obtain  a 
sight  of  his  face; — many  were  in  tears,  and  many 
knelt  down  before  him,  and  blessed  him  as  he 
passed.  England  has  had  many  heroes,  but 
never  one  who  so  entirely  possessed  the  love  of 
his  fellow-countrymen  as  Nelson.  All  men  knew 
that  his  heart  was  as  humane  as  it  was  fearless; 
that  there  was  not  in  his  nature  the  slightest 
alloy  of  selfishness  or  cupidity;  but  that,  with 
perfect  and  entire  devotion,  he  served  his  coun- 
try with  all  his  heart,  and  with  all  his  soul,  and 
with  all  his  strength;  and,  therefore,  they  loved 
him  as  truly  and  as  fervently  as  he  loved  Eng- 
land. They  pressed  upon  the  parapet  to  gaze 
after  him  when  his  barge  pushed  off,  and  he  was 
returning  their  cheers  by  waving  his  hat.  The 
sentinels,  who  endeavoured  to  prevent  them 
from  trespassing  upon  this  ground,  were  wedged 
among  the  crowd;  and  an  officer,  who,  DOt  very 
prudently  upon  such  an  occasion,  ordered  them 
to  drive  the  people  down  with  their  bayonets. 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  221 

was  compelled  speedily  to  retreat;  for  the  people 
would  not  be  debarred  from  gazing,  till  the  last 
moment,  upon  the  hero,  the  darling  hero  of 
England. 

He  arrived  off  Cadiz  on  the  29th  of  Sep- 
tember,— his  birthday.  Fearing  that,  if  the 
enemy  knew  his  force,  they  might  be  deterred 
from  venturing  to  sea,  he  kept  out  of  sight  of 
land,  desired  Collingwood  to  fire  no  salute  and 
hoist  no  colours,  and  wrote  to  Gibraltar,  to 
request  that  the  force  of  the  fleet  might  not  be 
inserted  there  in  the  Gazette.  His  reception  in 
the  Mediterranean  fleet  was  as  gratifying  as  the 
farewell  of  his  countrymen  at  Portsmouth:  the 
officers,  who  came  on  board  to  welcome  him, 
forgot  his  rank  as  commander,  in  their  joy  at 
seeing  him  again. 

On  the  day  of  his  arrival,  Villeneuve  received 
orders  to  put  to  sea  the  first  opportunity.  Ville- 
neuve, however,  hesitated  when  he  heard  that 
Nelson  had  resumed  the  command.  He  called 
a  council  of  war;  and  their  determination  was, 
that  it  would  not  be  expedient  to  leave  Cadiz, 
unless  they  had  reason  to  believe  themselves 
stronger  by  one- third  than  the  British  force. 

In  the  public  measures  of  this  country  secrecy 
is  seldom  practicable,  and  seldom  attempted: 
here,  however,  by  the  precautions  of  Nelson 
and  the  wise  measures  of  the  Admiralty,  the 
enemy  were  for  once  kept  in  ignorance;  for,  as 
the  ships  appointed  to  reinforce  the  Mediter- 
ranean fleet  were  despatclicd  singly — each  as 
soon  as  it  was  ready — their  collected   number 


222  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

was  not  stated  in  the  newspapers,  and  their 
arrival  was  not  known  to  the  enemy.  But  the 
enemy  knew  that  Admiral  Louis,  with  six  sail, 
had  been  detached  for  stores  and  water  to 
Gibraltar.  Accident  also  contributed  to  make 
the  French  admiral  doubt  whether  Nelson  him- 
self had  actually  taken  the  command.  An 
American,  lately  arrived  from  England,  main- 
tained that  it  was  impossible,  for  he  had  seen 
him  only  a  few  days  before  in  London,  and,  at 
that  time,  there  was  no  rumour  of  his  going 
again  to  sea. 

The  station  which  Nelson  had  chosen  was 
some  fifty  or  sixty  miles  to  the  west  of  Cadiz, 
near  Cape  Saint  Mary's.  At  this  distance  he 
hoped  to  decoy  the  enemy  out,  while  he  guarded 
against  the  danger  of  being  caught  with  a 
westerly  wind  near  Cadiz,  and  driven  within  the 
Straits.  The  blockade  of  the  port  was  rigorously 
enforced;  in  hopes  that  the  combined  fleet 
might  be  forced  to  sea  by  want. 

There  was  now  every  indication  that  the 
enemy  would  speedily  venture  out:  officers  and 
men  were  in  the  highest  spirits  at  the  prospect 
of  giving  them  a  decisive  blow,  such,  indeed,  as 
would  put  an  end  to  all  further  contest  upon  the 
seas.  Theatrical  amusements  were  performed 
every  evening  in  most  of  the  ships,  and  God  Save 
the  King  was  the  hymn  with  which  the  sports 
concluded. 

"I  verily  believe,"  said  Nelson  (writing  on  the 
6th  of  October),  "that  the  country  will  soon 
be  put  to  some  expense  on  my  account;  either  a 


The  Baitlk  of  Trafalgar  *223 

monument,  or  a  new  pension  and  honours;  for  I 
have  not  the  smallest  doubt  but  that  a  very  few 
days,  almost  hours,  will  put  us  in  battle.  The 
success  no  man  can  ensure;  but  for  the  fighting 
them,  if  they  can  be  got  at,  I  pledge  myself. — The 
sooner  the  better;  I  don't  like  to  have  these  things 
upon  my  mind." 

At  this  time  he  was  not  without  some  cause 
of  anxiety:  he  was  in  want  of  frigates — the  eyes 
of  the  fleet — as  he  always  called  them — to  the 
want  of  which,  the  enemy  before  were  indebted 
for  their  escape,  and  Bonaparte  for  his  arrival 
in  Egypt.  He  had  only  twenty-three  ships — 
others  were  on  the  way — but  they  might  come 
too  late;  and,  though  Nelson  never  doubted  of 
victory,  mere  victory  was  not  what  he  looked 
to — he  wanted  to  annihilate  the  enemy's  fleet. 
The  Carthagena  squadron  might  efl'ect  a  junction 
with  this  fleet  on  the  one  side;  and,  on  the  other, 
it  was  to  be  expected  that  a  similar  attempt 
would  be  made  by  the  French  from  Brest; — in 
either  case,  a  formidable  contingency  to  be 
apprehended  by  the  blockading  force.  The 
Rochefort  squadron  did  push  out,  and  had  nearly 
caught  the  Agamemnon  and  VAimable,  in  their 
way  to  reinforce  the  British  admiral.  Yet  Nel- 
son at  this  time  weakened  his  own  fleet.  He  had 
the  unpleasant  task  to  perform  of  sending  home 
Sir  Robert  Calder,  whose  conduct  was  to  be 
made  the  subject  of  a  court-martial,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  general  dissatisfaction  which  had 
been  felt  and  expressed  at  his  imperfect  victory. 

On  the  9th  Nelson  sent  Collingwood  what  he 


224  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

called,  in  his  diary,  the  Nelson-touch.  "I  send 
you,"  said  he,  "my  plan  of  attack,  as  far  as  a 
man  dare  venture  to  guess  at  the  very  uncertain 
position  the  enemy  may  be  found  in:  but  it  is  to 
place  you  perfectly  at  ease  respecting  my  inten- 
tions, and  to  give  full  scope  to  your  judgment 
for  carrying  them  into  effect.  We  can,  my 
dear  Coll,  have  no  little  jealousies.  We  have 
only  one  great  object  in  view,  that  of  annihilating 
our  enemies,  and  getting  a  glorious  peace  for  our 
country.  No  man  has  more  confidence  in 
another  than  I  have  in  you;  and  no  man  will 
render  your  services  more  justice  than  your  very 
old  friend  Nelson  and  Bronte." 

The  order  of  sailing  was  to  be  the  order  of 
battle:  the  fleet  in  two  lines,  with  an  advanced 
squadron  of  eight  of  the  fastest  sailing  two- 
Jeckers.  The  second  in  command,  having  the 
entire  direction  of  his  line,  was  to  break  through 
the  enemy,  about  the  twelfth  ship  from  their  rear: 
he  would  lead  through  the  centre,  and  the  ad- 
v^anced  squadron  was  to  cut  off  three  or  four 
ahead  of  the  centre.  This  plan  was  to  be 
adapted  to  the  strength  of  the  enemy,  so  that 
they  should  always  be  one-fourth  superior  to 
those  whom  they  cut  off. 

Nelson  said,  "My  admirals  and  captains, 
knowing  my  precise  object  to  be  that  of  a  close 
and  decisive  action,  will  supply  any  deficiency 
of  signals,  and  act  accordingly.  In  case  signals 
cannot  be  seen  or  clearly  understood,  no  captain 
can  do  wrong  if  he  places  his  ship  alongside 
that  of  an  enemy." 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  225 

One  of  the  last  orders  of  this  admirable  man 
was,  that  the  name  and  family  of  ever}^  officer, 
seaman,  and  marine,  who  might  be  killed  or 
wounded  in  action,  should  be,  as  soon  as  possible, 
returned  to  him,  in  order  to  be  transmitted  to 
the  chairman  of  the  Patriotic  Fund,  that  the 
case  might  be  taken  into  consideration,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  sufferer  or  his  family. 

About  half-past  nine  in  the  morning  of  the 
19th,  the  Mars,  being  the  nearest  to  the  fleet  of 
the  ships  which  formed  the  line  of  communica- 
tion with  the  frigates  in  shore,  repeated  the 
signal  that  the  enemy  were  coming  out  of 
port.  The  wind  was  at  this  time  very  light, 
with  partial  breezes,  mostly  from  the  S.S.W. 
Nelson  ordered  the  signal  to  be  made  for  a 
chase  in  the  southeast  quarter.  About  two, 
the  repeating  ships  announced  that  the  enemy 
w^ere  at  sea. 

All  night  the  British  fleet  continued  under  all 
sail,  steering  to  the  southeast.  At  daybreak 
they  were  in  the  entrance  of  the  Straits,  but  the 
enemy  was  not  in  sight.  About  seven,  one  of 
the  frigates  made  signal  that  the  enemy  were 
bearing  north.  Upon  this  the  Victory  hove  to; 
and  shortly  afterwards  Nelson  made  sail  again 
to  the  northward.  In  the  afternoon  the  wind 
blew  fresh  from  the  southwest,  and  the  English 
began  to  fear  that  the  foe  might  be  forced  to 
return  to  port.  A  little  before  sunset,  however, 
Blackwood,  in  the  Eunjalus,  telegraphed  that 
they  appeared  determined  to  go  to  the  west- 
ward,— "And    that,"    said    the    admiral   in   his 


•226  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

diary,  "they  shall  not  do,  if  it  is  in  the  power  of 
Nelson  and  Bronte  to  prevent  them." 

Nelson  had  signified  to  Blackwood,  that  he 
depended  upon  him  to  keep  sight  of  the  enemy. 
They  were  observed  so  well,  that  all  their  mo- 
tions were  made  known  to  him;  and,  as  they 
wore  twice,  he  inferred  that  they  were  aiming  to 
keep  the  port  of  Cadiz  open,  and  would  retreat 
there  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  British  fleet:  for 
this  reason  he  was  very  careful  not  to  aj^proach 
near  enough  to  be  seen  by  them  during  the  night. 

At  daybreak  the  combined  fleets  were  dis- 
tinctly seen  from  the  Victory's  deck,  formed  in  a 
close  line  of  battle  ahead,  on  the  starboard  tack, 
about  twelve  miles  to  leeward,  and  standing  to 
the  south.  Our  fleet  consisted  of  twenty-seven 
sail  of  the  line  and  four  frigates;  theirs  of  thirty- 
three,  and  seven  large  frigates.  Their  superi- 
ority was  greater  in  size,  and  weight  of  metal, 
than  in  numbers.  They  had  four  thousand 
troops  on  board;  and  the  best  riflemen  who 
could  be  procured,  many  of  them  Tyrolese,  were 
dispersed  through  the  ships.  Little  did  the 
Tyrolese,  and  little  did  the  Spaniards,  at  that 
day,  imagine  what  horrors  the  wicked  twant 
whom  they  served  was  preparing  for  their 
country ! 

Soon  after  daylight  Nelson  came  upon  deck. 
The  21st  of  October  was  a  festival  in  his  family; 
because  on  that  day  his  uncle.  Captain  Suckling, 
in  the  Dreadnought,  with  two  other  line  of  battle 
ships,  had  beaten  off  a  French  squadron  of 
four  sail  of  the  line  and  three  frigates.     Nelson, 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  227 

with  that  sort  of  superstition  from  which  few 
persons  are  entirely  exempt,  had  more  than  once 
expressed  his  persuasion  that  this  was  to  be  the 
day  of  his  battle  also;  and  he  was  well  pleased 
at  seeing  his  prediction  about  to  be  verified. 

The  wind  was  now  from  the  west, — light 
breezes,  with  a  long  heavy  swell.  Signal  was 
made  to  bear  down  upon  the  enemy  in  two  lines; 
and  the  fleet  set  all  sail.  Collingwood,  in  the 
Royal  Sovereign,  led  the  lee-line  of  thirteen 
ships;  the  Victory  led  the  weather-line  of  four- 
teen. 

Having  seen  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  Nelsor 
retired  to  his  cabin,  and  wrote  this  prayer: — 

"May  the  Great  God,  whom  I  worship,  grani 
to  my  country,  and  for  the  benefit  of  Europe 
in  general,  a  great  and  glorious  victory;  and  ma}' 
no  misconduct  in  any  one  tarnish  it;  and  may 
humanity  after  victory  be  the  predominant 
feature  in  the  British  fleet!  For  myself  indi- 
vidually, I  commit  my  life  to  Him  that  made  me, 
and  may  His  blessing  alight  on  my  endeavours 
for  serving  my  country  faithfully!  To  Him  1 
resign  myself,  and  the  just  cause  which  is  in- 
trusted to  me  to  defend.     Amen,  Amen,  Amen." 

Blackwood  went  on  board  the  Victory  about 
six.  He  found  Nelson  in  good  spirits,  but  very 
calm;  not  in  that  exhilaration  which  he  had  felt 
upon  entering  into  battle  at  Aboukir  and  Copen- 
hagen; he  knew  that  his  own  life  would  be  par- 
ticularly aimed  at,   and   seems   to  have   looked 


228  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

for  death  with  almost  as  sure  an  expectation  as 
for  ^^cto^}^  His  whole  attention  was  fixed  upon 
the  enemy.  They  tacked  to  the  northward, 
and  formed  their  line  on  the  larboard  tack;  thus 
brinfrino;  the  shoals  of  TrafaWr  and' St.  Pedro 
under  the  lee  of  the  British,  and  keeping  the 
port  of  Cadiz  open  for  themselves.  This  was 
judiciously  done:  and  Nelson,  aw^are  of  all  the 
advantages  which  it  gave  them,  made  signal  to 
prepare  to  anchor. 

Villeneuve  was  a  skilful  seaman;  worthy  of 
servinsr  a  better  master  and  a  better  cause.  His 
plan  of  defence  was  as  well  conceived,  and  as 
original,  as  the  plan  of  attack.  He  formed  the 
fleet  in  a  double  line,  every  alternate  ship  being 
about  a  cable's  length  to  wdndw^ard  of  her  second 
ahead  and  astern. 

Nelson,  certain  of  a  triumphant  issue  to  the 
day,  asked  Blackw^ood  what  he  should  consider 
as  a  \ictory.  That  officer  answered,  that,  con- 
sidering the  handsome  way  in  which  battle  was 
offered  by  the  enemy,  their  apparent  deter- 
mination for  a  fair  trial  of  strength,  and  the 
situation  of  the  land,  he  thought  it  w^ould  be  a 
glorious  rcjult  if  fourteen  were  captured.  He 
replied:  *'I  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  less  than 
twenty.'* 

Soon  afterwards  he  asked  him  if  he  did  not 
think  there  was  a  signal  w^anting.  Captain 
Blackw^ood  made  answ^er  that  he  thought  the 
whole  fleet  seemed  very  clearly  to  understand 
what  they  were  about.  These  words  were 
scarcely   spoken   before   that  signal  was  made. 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  229 

which  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  the  lan- 
guage, or  even  the  memory,  of  England  shall 
endure — Nelson's  last  signal: — 

^^  England  expects  every  man  to  do  his  dutyV 

It  was  received  throughout  the  fleet  with  a 
shout  of  answering  acclamation,  made  sublime 
by  the  spirit  which  it  breathed  and  the  feeling 
which  it  expressed.  "Now,"  said  Lord  Nelson, 
"I  can  do  no  more.  We  must  trust  to  the  Great 
Disposer  of  all  events,  and  the  justice  of  our 
cause.  I  thank  God  for  this  great  opportunity 
of  doing  my  duty." 

He  wore  that  day,  as  usual,  his  admiral's 
frock  coat,  bearing  on  the  left  breast  four  stars 
of  the  different  orders  with  which  he  was  in- 
vested. Ornaments  which  rendered  him  so 
conspicuous  a  mark  for  the  enemy,  were  beheld 
with  ominous  apprehensions  by  his  officers.  It 
was  known  that  there  were  riflemen  on  board 
the  French  ships,  and  it  could  not  be  doubted 
but  that  his  life  would  be  particularly  aimed  at. 
They  communicated  their  fears  to  each  other; 
and  the  surgeon,  Mr.  Beatty,  spoke  to  the 
chaplain,  Dr.  Scott,  and  to  Mr.  Scott,  the  public 
secretary,  desiring  that  some  person  would 
entreat  him  to  change  his  dress,  or  cover  the 
stars:  but  they  knew  that  such  a  request  would 
highly  displease  him.  "In  honour  I  gained 
them,"  he  had  said  when  such  a  thing  had  been 
hinted  to  him  formerly,  "and  in  honour  I  will  die 
with  them."     Mr.  Beattv,  however,  would  not 

foI.IX.— 16. 


•■230  Thi:  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

have  been  deterred  by  any  fear  of  exciting  his 
displeasure,  from  speaking  to  him  himself  upon 
a  subject  in  which  the  weal  of  England  as  well 
as  the  life  of  Nelson  was  concerned,  but  he  was 
ordered  from  the  deck  before  he  could  find  an 
opportunity. 

This  was  a  point  upon  which  Nelson's  officers 
knew  that  it  was  hopeless  to  remonstrate  or 
reason  with  him;  but  both  Blackwood,  and  his 
own  captain,  Hardy,  represented  to  him  how 
advantageous  to  the  fleet  it  would  be  for  him  to 
keep  out  of  action  as  long  as  possible;  and  he 
consented  at  last  to  let  the  Leviathan  and  the 
Temeraire,  which  were  sailing  abreast  of  the 
Victory,  be  ordered  to  pass  ahead.  Yet  even  here 
the  last  infirmity  of  this  noble  mind  was  indulged; 
for  these  ships  could  not  pass  ahead  if  the  Victory 
continued  to  carry  all  her  sail ;  and  so  far  was 
Nelson  from  shortening  sail,  that  it  was  evident 
he  took  pleasure  in  pressing  on,  and  rendering 
it  impossible  for  them  to  obey  his  own  orders. 

A  long  swell  was  setting  into  the  Bay  of  Cadiz : 
our  ships,  crowding  all  sail,  moved  majestically 
before  it,  with  light  winds  from  the  southwest. 
The  sun  shone  on  the  sails  of  the  enemy;  and 
their  well-formed  line,  with  their  numerous 
three-deckers,  made  an  appearance  which  any 
other  assailants  would  have  thought  formidable; 
but  the  British  sailors  only  admired  the  beauty 
and  the  splendour  of  the  spectacle;  and,  in  full 
confidence  of  winning  what  they  saw,  remarked 
to  each  other,  what  a  fine  sight  yonder  ships 
would  make  at  Spithead! 


The  Bai^ple  of  Trafalgar  231 

The  French  admiral,  from  the  Bucentaure, 
beheld  the  new  manner  in  which  his  enemy 
was  advancing,  Nelson  and  Collingwood  each 
leading  his  line;  and,  pointing  them  out  to  his 
officers,  he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  that  such 
conduct  could  not  fail  to  be  successful.  Yet 
Villeneuve  had  made  his  own  dispositions  with 
the  utmost  skill,  and  the  fleets  under  his  com* 
mand  waited  for  the  attack  with  perfect  coolness. 

Ten  minutes  before  twelve  they  opened  their 
fire.  Eight  or  nine  of  the  ships  immediately 
ahead  of  the  Victory,  and  across  her  bows,  fired 
single  guns  at  her,  to  ascertain  whether  she  was 
yet  within  their  range.  As  soon  as  Nelson  per- 
ceived that  their  shot  passed  over  him,  he  desired 
Blackwood,  and  Captain  Prowse,  of  the  Sii'iiis,  to 
repair  to  their  respective  frigates;  and,  on  their 
way,  to  tell  all  the  captains  of  the  line  of  battle 
ships  that  he  depended  on  their  exertions;  and 
that,  if  by  the  prescribed  mode  of  attack  they 
found  it  impracticable  to  get  into  action  imme- 
diately, they  might  adopt  whatever  they  thought 
best,  provided  it  led  them  quickly  and  closely 
alongside  an  enemy. 

As  they  were  standing  on  the  front  of  the 
poop,  Blackwood  took  him  by  the  hand,  saying, 
he  hoped  soon  to  return  and  find  him  in  posses- 
sion of  twenty  prizes.  He  replied:  "God  bless 
you,  Blackwood!     I  shall  never  see  you  again." 

Nelson's  column  was  steered  about  two  points 
more  to  the  north  than  Collingwood's,  in  order 
to  cut  off  the  enemy's  escape  into  Cadiz:  the 
lee-line,  therefore,  was  first  engaged. 


232  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 


"see,"  cried  nelson 

"See,"  cried  Nelson,  pointing  to  the  Royal 
Sovereign^  as  she  steered  right  for  the  centre  of 
the  enemy's  hne,  cut  through  it  astern  of  the 
Santa  Anna,  three-decker,  and  engaged  her  at 
the  muzzle  of  her  guns  on  the  starboard  side: 
"see  how  that  noble  fellow,  CoUingwood,  carries 
his  ship  into  action ! " 

ColUngwood,  delighted  at  being  first  in  the 
heat  of  the  fire,  and  knowing  the  feelings  of  his 
commander  and  old  friend,  turned  to  his  captain, 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  233 

and  exclaimed,  "Rotherham,  what  would  Nelson 
give  to  be  here ! " 

Both  these  brave  officers,  perhaps,  at  this 
moment  thought  of  Nelson  with  gratitude,  for  a 
circumstance  which  had  occurred  on  the  pre- 
ceding day.  Admiral  Collingwood,  with  some 
of  the  captains,  having  gone  on  board  the  Victory 
to  receive  instructions,  Nelson  inquired  of  him 
where  his  captain  was  and  was  told,  in  reply,  that 
they  were  not  upon  good  terms  with  each  other. 
"Terms!"  said  Nelson; — "good  terms  with  each 
other ! "  Immediately  he  sent  a  boat  for  Captain 
Rotherham;  led  him,  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  to 
Collingwood,  and  said,  "Look,  yonder  are  the 
enemy!     Shake  hands  like  Englishmen." 

The  enemy  continued  to  fire  a  gun  at  a  time  at 
the  Victory,  till  they  saw  that  a  shot  had  passed 
through  her  main-topgallant-sail;  then  they 
opened  their  broadsides,  aiming  chiefly  at  her 
rigging,  in  the  hope  of  disabling  her  before  she 
could  close  with  them. 

Nelson,  as  usual,  had  hoisted  several  flags, 
lest  one  should  be  shot  away.  The  enemy 
showed  no  colors  till  late  in  the  action,  when  they 
began  to  feel  the  necessity  of  having  them  to 
strike.  For  this  reason,  the  Santissima  Trinidad, 
Nelson's  old  acquaintance,  as  he  used  to  call  her, 
was  distinguishable  only  by  her  four  decks;  and 
to  the  bow  of  this  opponent  he  ordered  the  Vic' 
lory  to  be  steered. 

Meantime  an  incessant  raking  fire  was  kept 
up  upon  the  Victory.  The  admiral's  secretary 
was  one  of  the  first  who  fell:  he  was  killed  by  a 


234  The  Battle  of  Trafalgah 

cannon-shot,  while  conversing  with  Hardy.  Cap- 
tain Adair,  of  the  marines,  with  the  help  of  a 
sailor,  endeavoured  to  remove  the  body  from 
Nelson's  sight,  who  had  a  great  regard  for  Mr. 
Scott;  but  he  anxiously  asked,  "Is  that  poor 
Scott  that's  o'one.''"  and  l>eino;  informed  that  it 
was  indeed  so,  exclaimed,  "Poor  fellow!" 

Presently  a  double-headed  shot  struck  a  party 
of  marines,  who  were  drawn  up  on  the  poop,  and 
killed  eight  of  them:  upon  which  Nelson  immedi- 
ately desired  Captain  Adair  to  disperse  his  men 
round  the  ship,  that  they  might  not  suffer  so 
much  from  being  together. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  a  shot  struck  the 
fore  brace  bits  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  passed 
between  Nelson  and  Hardy,  a  splinter  from  the 
bit  tearing  off  Hardy's  buckle  and  bruising  his 
foot.  Both  stopped,  and  looked  anxiously  at 
each  other,  each  supposing  the  other  to  be 
wounded.  Nelson  then  smiled,  and  said,  "This 
is  too  warm  work,  Hardy,  to  last  long." 

The  Victory  had  not  yet  returned  a  single  gun : 
fifty  of  her  men  had  been  by  this  time  killed  or 
wounded,  and  her  main-topmast,  with  all  her 
studding  sails  and  their  booms,  shot  away. 
Nelson  declared  that,  in  all  his  battles,  he  had 
seen  nothing  which  surpassed  the  cool  courage 
of  his  crew  on  this  occasion. 

At  four  minutes  after  twelve  she  opened  her 
fire  from  both  sides  of  her  deck.  It  was  not  pos- 
sible to  break  the  enemy's  line  without  running 
on  board  one  of  their  ships :  Hardy  informed 
him  of  this,  and  asked  which  he  would  prefer. 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  235 

Nelson  replied:  "Take  your  choice,  Hardy, 
it  does  not  signify  much." 

The  master  was  then  ordered  to  put  the  helm 
to  port,  and  the  Victory  ran  on  board  the  Re- 
doubtable, just  as  her  tiller  ropes  were  shot  away. 
The  French  ship  received  her  with  a  broadside; 
then  instantly  let  down  her  lower-deck  ports,  for 
fear  of  being  boarded  through  them,  and  never 
afterwards  fired  a  great  gun  during  the  action. 
Her  tops,  like  those  of  all  the  enemy's  ships, 
were  filled  with  riflemen.  Nelson  never  placed 
musketry  in  his  tops;  he  had  a  strong  dislike  to 
the  practice,  not  merely  because  it  endangers 
setting  fire  to  the  sails,  but  also  because  it  is  a 
murderous  sort  of  warfare,  by  which  individuals 
may  suffer,  and  a  commander,  now  and  then,  be 
picked  off,  but  which  never  can  decide  the  fate 
of  a  general  engagement. 

Captain  Harvey,  in  the  Temeraire,  fell  on 
board  the  Redoubtable  on  the  other  side.  An- 
other enemy  was  in  like  manner  on  board  the 
Temeraire:  so  that  these  four  ships  formed  as 
compact  a  tier  as  if  they  had  been  moored  to- 
gether, their  heads  lying  all  the  same  way.  The 
lieutenants  of  the  Victory,  seeing  this,  depressed 
their  guns  of  the  middle  and  lower  decks,  and 
fired  with  a  diminished  charge,  lest  the  shot 
should  pass  through,  and  injure  the  Temeraire. 
And  because  there  was  danger  that  the  Redoubt- 
able might  take  fire  from  the  lower-deck  gims, 
the  muzzles  of  which  touched  her  side  when  they 
were  run  out,  the  fireman  of  each  gun  stood  ready 
with  a  bucket  of  water,  which,  as  soon  as  the  gun 


•236 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgab 


was  discharged,  he  dashed  into  the  hole  made  by 
the  shot.  An  incessant  fire  was  kept  up  from  the 
Victory  from  both  sides;  her  larboard  guns  play- 
ing upon  the  Bucentaure  and  the  huge  Santissima 
Trinidad. 

It  had  been  part  of  Nelson's  prayer  that  the 
British  fleet  might  be  distinguished  by  humanity 
in  the  victory  which  he  expected.     Setting  an 


THE    nCTOBT 


example  himself,  he  twice  gave  orders  to  cease 
firing  upon  the  Redoubtable,  supposing  that  she 
had  struck,  because  her  great  guns  were  silent; 
for,  as  she  carried  no  flag,  there  was  no  means  of 
instantly  ascertaining  the  fact. 

From  this  ship,  which  he  had  thus  twice 
spared,  he  received  his  death.  A  ball  fired  from 
her  mizzen-top,  which,  in  the  then  situation  of  the 
two  vessels,  was  not  more  than  fifteen  yards  from 
that  part  of  the  deck  where  he  was  standing, 
struck  the  epaulette  on  his  left  shoulder, — about 
a  quarter  after  one,  just  in  the  heat  of  the  action. 
He  fell  upon  his  face,  on  the  spot  which  was  cov- 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 


237 


THEY  HAVE  DONE  FOB  ME  AT  LAST. 


ered  with  his  poor  secretary's  blood.  Hardy, 
who  was  a  few  steps  from  him,  turning  round, 
saw  three  men  raising  him  up. 

"They  have  done  for  me  at  last,  Hardy," 
said  he. 

"I  hope  not!"  cried  Hardy. 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "my  backbone  is  shot 
through." 

Yet  even  now,  not  for  a  moment  losing  his 
presence  of  mind,  he  observed,  as  they  were 
carrying  him  down  the  ladder,  that  the  tiller 
ropes,  which  had  been  shot  away,  were  not  yet 
replaced,  and  ordered  that  new  ones  should  be 
rove  immediately: — then,  that  he  might  not  be 


238  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

seen  by  the  crew,  he  took  out  his  handkerchief, 
and  covered  his  face  and  his  stars. — Had  he  but 
concealed  these  badges  of  honour  from  the 
enemy,  England,  perhaps,  would  not  have  had 
cause  to  receive  with  sorrow  the  news  of  the  battle 
of  Trafalgar. 

The  cockpit  was  crowded  with  wounded  and 
dying  men,  over  whose  bodies  he  was  with  some 
difficulty  conveyed,  and  laid  upon  a  pallet  in  the 
midshipmen's  berth.  It  was  soon  perceived, 
upon  examination,  that  the  wound  was  mortal. 
This,  however,  was  concealed  from  all,  except 
Captain  Hardy,  the  chaplain,  and  the  medical 
attendants.  He  himself  being  certain,  from  the 
sensation  in  his  back,  and  the  gush  of  blood 
which  he  felt  momently  within  his  breast,  that 
no  human  care  could  avail  him,  insisted  that  the 
surgeon  should  leave  him,  and  attend  to  those  to 
whom  he  might  be  useful:  "For,"  said  he, 
"you  can  do  nothing  for  me." 

All  that  could  be  done  was  to  fan  him  with 
paper,  and  frequently  to  give  him  lemonade,  to 
alle\date  his  intense  thirst.  He  was  in  great 
pain,  and  expressed  much  anxiety  for  the  event 
of  the  action,  which  now  began  to  declare  itself. 
As  often  as  a  ship  struck,  the  crew  of  the  Victory 
hurrahed,  and  at  every  hurrah  a  visible  expres- 
sion of  joy  gleamed  in  the  ej^es,  and  marked  the 
countenance  of  the  dying  hero.  Cut  he  became 
impatient  to  see  Captain  Hardy;  and  as  that 
officer,  though  often  sent  for,  could  not  leave  the 
deck,  Nelson  feared  that  some  fatal  cause  pre- 
vented  him,   and   repeatedly   cried:     "Will    no 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  239 

one  bring  Hardy  to  me  ?  He  must  be  killed ! 
He  surely  is  dead ! " 

An  hour  and  ten  minutes  elapsed,  from  the 
time  when  Nelson  received  his  wound,  before 
Hardy  could  come  to  him.  They  shook  hands 
in  silence:  Hardy  in  vain  struggling  to  suppress 
the  feelings  of  that  most  painful,  and  yet  sub- 
limest  moment. 

"Well,  Hardy,"  said  Nelson,  "how  goes  the 
day  with  us  ?  " 

"Very  well,"  replied  Hardy.  "Ten  ships  have 
struck,  but  five  of  their  van  have  tacked,  and 
show  an  intention  of  bearing  down  upon  the 
Victory.  I  have  called  two  or  three  of  our  fresh 
ships  round,  and  have  no  doubt  of  giving  them 
a  drubbing." 

"I  hope,"  said  Nelson,  "none  of  our  ships 
struck." 

Hardy  answered,  "There  was  no  fear  of 
that." 

Then  and  not  till  then,  Nelson  spoke  of  him- 
self. 

"I  am  a  dead  man,  Hardy,"  he  said;  "I  am 
going  fast;  it  will  be  all  over  with  me  soon. 
Come  nearer  to  me.  My  back  is  shot  through. 
Beatty  will  tell  you  so." 

Captain  Hardy  then  once  more  shook  hands 
with  him;  and,  with  a  heart  almost  bursting, 
hastened  upon  deck. 

By  this  time  all  feeling  below  the  breast  was 
gone,  and  Nelson,  having  made  the  surgeon 
ascertain  this,  said  to  him:  "You  know  I  am 
gone.     T  know  it.     T  frol  something  rising  in  my 


•240  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

breast" — putting  his  hand  to  his  left  side — 
"which  tells  me  so." 

And  upon  Beatty's  inquiring  whether  his  pain 
was  very  great,  he  replied,  "So  great  that  I  wish 
I  was  dead.  Yet,"  said  he,  in  a  lower  voice, 
"one  would  like  to  live  a  little  longer  too!" 

Captain  Hardy,  some  fifty  minutes  after  he 
had  left  the  cockpit,  returned;  and,  again  taking 
the  hand  of  his  dying  friend  and  commander, 
congratulated  him  upon  having  gained  a  com- 
plete victory.  How  many  of  the  enemy  were 
taken  he  did  not  know,  as  it  was  impossible  to 
perceive  them  distinctly — but  fourteen  or  fifteen 
of  them  at  least. 

"That's  well,"  cried  Nelson;  "but  I  bar- 
gained for  twenty."  And  then,  in  a  stronger 
voice,  he  said,  "xA.nchor,  Hardy;  anchor." 

Hardy  upon  this,  hinted  that  Admiral  Col- 
iingwood  would  take  upon  himself  the  direction 
of  affairs. 

"Not  while  I  live,  Hardy!"  said  the  dying 
Nelson,  ineffectually  endeavouring  to  raise  him- 
self from  the  bed;  "do  you  anchor." 

His  previous  order  for  preparing  to  anchor 
had  shown  how  clearly  he  foresaw  the  necessity 
of  this.  Presently,  calling  Hardy  back,  he  said 
to  him  in  a  low  voice,  "Don't  throw^  me  over- 
board ; "  and  he  desired  that  he  might  be  buried 
by  his  parents,  unless  it  should  please  the  king 
to  order  otherwise. 

Then,  reverting  to  his  private  feelings:  "Kiss 
me,  Hardy,"  said  he.  Hardy  knelt  down  and 
kissed  his  cheek:  and  Nelson  said,  "Now  I  am 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgab  241 

satisfied.     Thank  God,  I  have  done  my  duty.*' 

Hardy  stood  over  him  in  silence  for  a  minute 
or  two;  then  knelt  again,  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

**\Mio  is  that.'^"  said  Nelson;  and  being  in- 
formed, he  replied,  "God  bless  you,  Hardy." 
And  Hardy  then  left  him  forever. 

Nelson  now  desired  to  be  turned  on  his  right 
side,  and  said:  "I  wish  I  had  not  left  the  deck; 
for  I  shall  soon  be  gone." 

Death  was,  indeed,  rapidly  approaching.  He 
said  to  his  chaplain:  "Doctor,  I  have  not  been 
a  great  sinner."  His  articulation  now  became 
difficult;  but  he  was  distinctly  heard  to  say, 
"Thank  God,  I  have  done  my  duty!"  These 
words  he  had  repeatedly  pronounced;  and  they 
were  the  last  words  he  uttered.  He  expired  at 
thirty  minutes  after  four, — three  hours  and  a 
quarter  after  he  had  received  his  wound. 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Nelson  was 
wounded,  above  fifty  of  the  Victory's  men  fell 
by  the  enemy's  musketry.  They,  however,  on 
their  part,  were  not  idle;  and  it  was  not  long 
before  there  were  only  two  Frenchmen  left  alive 
in  the  mizzen-top  of  the  Redoubtable.  One  of 
them  was  the  man  who  had  given  the  fatal 
wound:  he  did  not  live  to  boast  of  what  he  had 
done.  An  old  quartermaster  had  seen  him  fire; 
and  easily  recognized  him,  because  he  wore  a 
glazed  cocked  hat  and  a  white  frock.  This 
quartermaster,  and  two  midshipmen,  Mr.  Col- 
lingwood  and  Mr.  Pollard,  were  the  only  persons 
left  on  the  Victory's  poop;  the  two  midshipmen 
kept  filing  at  the  top,  and  he  supplied  them  with 


^242  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

cartridges.  One  of  the  Frenchmen,  attempting: 
to  make  his  escape  down  the  rigging,  was  shot 
by  ]Mr.  Pollard,  and  fell  on  the  poop.  But  the 
old  quartermaster,  as  he  cried  out,  "That's  he, 
that's  he,"  and  pointed  at  the  other,  who  was 
coming  forward  to  fire  again,  received  a  shot  in 
his  mouth,  and  fell  dead.  Both  the  midship- 
men then  fired,  at  the  same  time,  and  the  fellow 
dropped  in  the  top.  When  they  took  possession 
of  the  prize,  they  went  into  the  mizzen-top,  and 
found  him  dead ;  with  one  ball  through  his  head, 
and  another  through  his  breast. 

The  Redoubtable  struck  within  twenty  minutes 
after  the  fatal  shot  had  been  fired  from  her. 
During  that  time  she  had  been  twice  on  fire, — 
in  her  fore-chains  and  in  her  forecastle.  The 
French,  as  they  had  done  in  other  battles,  made 
use,  in  this,  of  fireballs  and  other  combustibles 
— implements  of  destruction  which  other  nations, 
from  a  sense  of  honour  and  humanity,  have  laid 
aside — which  add  to  the  sufferings  of  the 
wounded,  without  determining  the  issue  of  the 
combat — which  none  but  the  cruel  would  em- 
ploy, and  which  never  can  be  successful  against 
the  brave. 

Once  they  succeeded  in  setting  fire,  from  the 
Redoubtable,  to  some  ropes  and  canvas  on  the 
Victory's  booms.  The  cry  ran  through  the  ship, 
and  reached  the  cockpit;  but  even  this  dreadful 
cry  produced  no  confusion:  the  men  displayed 
that  perfect  self-possession  in  danger  by  which 
English  seamen  are  characterized;  they  extin- 
guished the  flames  on  board  their  own  ship,  and 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  243 

then  hastened  to  extinguish  them  in  the  enemy, 
by  throwing  buckets  of  water  from  the  gangway. 
\Vhen  the  Redoubtable  had  struck,  it  was  not 
practicable  to  board  her  from  the  Victonj;  for, 
though  the  two  ships  touched,  the  upper  works 
of  both  fell  in  so  much,  that  there  was  a  great 
space  between  their  gangways;  and  she  could 
not  be  boarded  from  the  lower  or  middle  decks, 
because  her  ports  were  down.  Some  of  our  men 
went  to  Lieutenant  Quilliam,  and  offered  to 
swim  under  her  bows  and  get  up  there;  but  it 
was  thought  unfit  to  hazard  brave  lives  in  this 
manner. 

WTiat  our  men  would  have  done  from  gallan- 
try, some  of  the  crew  of  the  Santissima  Trinidad 
did  to  save  themselves.  Unable  to  stand  the 
tremendous  fire  of  the  Victory,  whose  larboard 
guns  played  against  this  great  four-decker,  and 
not  know^ing  how  else  to  escape  them,  nor  where 
else  to  betake  themselves  for  protection,  many 
of  them  leapt  overboard,  and  swam  to  the  Vic- 
tor?/; and  were  actually  helped  up  her  sides  by 
the  English  during  the  action. 

The  Spaniards  began  the  battle  with  less 
vivacity  than  their  unworthy  allies,  but  they  con- 
tinued it  with  greater  firmness.  The  Argonauta 
and  Bahama  were  defended  till  they  had  each 
lost  about  four  hundred  men;  the  San  Juan  Ne- 
pomuceno  lost  three  hundred  and  fifty.  Often 
as  the  superiority  of  British  courage  has  been 
proved  against  France  upon  the  sea,  it  was  never 
more  conspicuous  than  in  this  decisive  conflict. 
Five  of  our  ships  were  engaged  muzzle  to  muzzle 


244  The  Battle  of  Trafalgar 

with  five  of  the  French.  In  all  five  the  French- 
men lowered  their  lower-deck  ports,  and  deserted 
tlieir  guns;  while  our  men  continued  deliberately 
to  load  and  fire,  till  they  had  made  the  victory 
secure. 

Once,  amidst  his  sufferings,  Nelson  had  ex- 
pressed a  wish  that  he  were  dead;  but  immedi- 
ately the  spirit  subdued  the  pains  of  death,  and 
he  wished  to  live  a  little  longer;  doubtless  that  he 
might  hear  the  completion  of  the  victory  which 
he  had  seen  so  gloriously  begun.  That  consola- 
tion— that  joy — that  triumph  was  afforded  him. 
He  lived  to  know  that  the  victory  was  decisive; 
and  the  last  guns  which  were  fired  at  the  flying 
enemy  were  heard  a  minute  or  two  before  he  ex- 
pired. 

The  total  British  loss  in  the  battle  of  Trafalgar 
amounted  to  1,587.  Twenty  of  the  enemy 
struck, — unhappily  the  fleet  did  not  anchor,  as 
Nelson,  almost  with  his  dying  breath,  had  en- 
joined,— a  gale  came  on  from  the  southwest; 
some  of  the  prizes  went  down,  some  went  on 
shore;  one  efi'ected  its  escape  into  Cadiz;  others 
were  destroyed;  four  only  w'ere  saved,  and  those 
by  the  greatest  exertions.  The  wounded  Span- 
iards were  sent  ashore,  an  assurance  being  given 
that  they  should  not  serve  till  regularly  ex- 
changed; and  the  Spaniards,  with  a  generous 
feeling,  which  would  not,  perhaps,  have  been 
found  in  any  other  people,  offered  the  use  of  their 
hospitals  for  our  w^ounded,  pledging  the  honour 
of  Spain  that  they  should  be  carefully  attended 
there.     When  the  storm  after  the  action  drove 


The  Battle  of  Trafalgar  245 

some  of  the  prizes  upon  the  coast,  they  declared 
that  the  EngHsh,  who  were  thus  thrown  into 
their  hands,  should  not  be  considered  as  prison- 
ers of  war;  and  the  Spanish  soldiers  gave  up  their 
own  beds  to  their  shipwrecked  enemies.  The 
Spanish  vice-admiral,  Alava,  died  of  his  wounds. 
Villeneuve  was  sent  to  England,  and  permitted 
to  return  to  France. 

It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add  that  all  the 
honours  which  a  grateful  country  could  bestow 
were  heaped  upon  the  memory  of  Nelson.  A 
public  funeral  was  decreed,  and  a  public  monu- 
ment. Statues  and  monuments  also  were  voted 
by  most  of  our  principal  cities.  The  leaden 
cofl&n,  in  which  he  was  brought  home,  was  cut 
in  pieces,  which  were  distributed  as  relics  of 
Saint  Nelson, — so  the  gunner  of  the  Victory 
called  them, — and  when,  at  his  interment,,  his 
flag  was  about  to  be  lowered  into  the  grave,  the 
sailors  who  had  assisted  at  the  ceremony,  with 
one  accord  rent  it  in  pieces,  that  each  might  pre- 
serve a  fragment  while  he  lived. 

The  death  of  Nelson  was  felt  in  England  as 
something  more  than  a  public  calamity:  men 
started  at  the  intelligence,  and  turned  pale,  as  if 
they  had  heard  of  the  loss  of  a  dear  friend.  An 
object  of  our  admiration  and  affection,  of  our 
pride  and  of  our  hopes,  was  suddenly  taken  from 
us;  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  never,  till  then, 
known  how  deeply  we  loved  and  reverenced  him. 
What  the  country  had  lost  in  its  great  naval  hero 
— the  greatest  of  our  own,  and  of  all  former 
times — was  scarcely  taken  into  the  account  of 

Vol.  IX.-17. 


^246  Casabianca 

grief.  So  perfectly,  indeed,  had  he  performed 
his  part,  that  the  maritime  war,  after  the  Battle 
of  Trafalgar,  was  considered  at  an  end;  the  fleets 
of  the  enemy  were  not  merely  defeated,  but  de- 
stroyed; new  navies  must  be  built,  and  a  new 
race  of  seamen  reared  for  them,  before  the  possi- 
bility of  their  invading  our  shores  could  again  be 
contemplated. 

CASABIANCA 

FELICIA  HEMANS 

Note, — Young  Casabianca,  a  boy  about  thir- 
teen years  old,  son  of  the  Admiral  of  the  Orient, 
remained  at  his  post  (in  the  Battle  of  the  Nile) 
after  the  ship  had  taken  fire  and  all  the  guns  had 
been  abandoned,  and  perished  in  the  explosion 
of  the  vessel,  when  the  flames  had  reached  the 
powder. 

The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 
Whence  all  but  him  had  fled; 

The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck 
Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead. 

Yet  beautiful  and  bright  he  stood. 

As  born  to  rule  the  storm ; 
A  creature  of  heroic  blood, 

A  proud  though  childlike  form. 

The  flames  rolled  on;  he  would  not  go 

Without  his  father's  word; 
That  father,  faint  in  death  below, 

His  voice  no  longer  heard. 


Casabianca  ^47 

He  called  aloud,  "Say,  father,  say. 

If  yet  my  task  be  done  ?" 
He  knew  not  that  the  chieftain  lay 

Unconscious  of  his  son. 

"Speak,  father!"  once  again  he  cried, 

"  If  I  may  yet  be  gone ! " 
And  but  the  booming  shots  replied. 

And  fast  the  flames  rolled  on. 

Upon  his  brow  he  felt  their  breath. 

And  in  his  waving  hair. 
And  looked  from  that  lone  post  of  death 

In  still  yet  brave  despair; 

And  shouted  but  once  more  aloud. 

"My  father!  must  I  stay.^" 
While  o'er  him  fast,  through  sail  and  shroud 

The  wreathing  fires  made  way. 

They  wrapt  the  ship  in  splendor  wild. 

They  caught  the  flag  on  high, 
And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child. 

Like  banners  in  the  sky. 

There  came  a  burst  of  thunder  sound ; 

The  boy, — Oh !  where  was  he  ? 
Ask  of  the  winds,  that  far  around 

With  fraerments  strewed  the  sea, — 


With  shroud  and  mast  and  pennon  fair. 
That  well  had  borne  their  part,— 

But  the  no])lest  thing  that  perished  there 
Was  that  young,  faithful  heart. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SWAN'S  NEST 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING 

Little  Ellie  sits  alone 

'Mid  the  beeches  of  a  meadow, 
By  a  stream-side  on  the  grass. 
And  the  trees  are  showering  down 
Doubles  of  their  leaves  in  shadow, 
On  her  shining  hair  and  face. 

She  has  thrown  her  bonnet  by, 
And  her  feet  she  has  been  dipping 
In  the  shallow  water's  flow; 
Now  she  holds  them  nakedly 

In  her  hands,  all  sleek  and  dripping, 
WTiile  she  rocketh  to  and  fro 

Little  Ellie  sits  alone, 

And  the  smile  she  softly  uses 
Fills  the  silence  like  a  speech. 
While  she  thinks  what  shall  be  done, 
And  the  sweetest  pleasure  chooses 
For  her  future  within  reach. 

Little  Ellie  in  her  smile 

Chooses,  "I  will  have  a  lover. 
Riding  on  a  steed  of  steeds: 
He  shall  love  me  without  guile, 
And  to  him  I  will  discover 

The  swan's  nest  among  the  reeds. 

248 


LITTLE   KLLIE   SITS   ALONE 


The  Swan's  Nest  249 

"And  the  steed  shall  be  red  roan. 
And  the  lover  shall  be  noble, 

With  an  eye  that  takes  the  breath. 
And  the  liite^  he  plays  upon 
Shall  strike  ladies  into  trouble, 
As  his  sword  strikes  men  to  death. 

"And  the  steed  it  shall  be  shod 
All  in  silver,  housed  in  azure  ;^ 

And  the  mane  shall  swim  the  wind; 
And  the  hoofs  along  the  sod 

Shall  flash  onward,  and  keep  measure. 
Till  the  shepherds  look  behind. 

"But  my  lover  will  not  prize 
All  the  glory  that  he  rides  in, 
When  he  gazes  in  my  face. 
He  will  say,  *  O  Love,  thine  eyes 
Build  the  shrine  my  soul  abides  in. 
And  I  kneel  here  for  thy  grace ! ' 

**Then,  aye,  then  shall  he  kneel  low. 
With  the  red-roan  steed  anear  him. 
Which  shall  seem  to  understand, 
Till  I  answer,  'Rise  and  go! 

For  the  world  must  love  and  fear  him 
Whom  I  gift  with  heart  and  hand.' 


1.  It  would  seem  strange  to  us  now  if  a  soldier  rode  about  playing 
upon  a  lute;  but  in  the  old  days  of  chivalry  about  which  little  i^llie 
had  been  rea<Iing,  it  was  looked  upon  as  almost  necessary  for  a  knight 
to  be  able  to  play  and  sing  sweet  songs  to  his  lady. 

2.  The  saddle-cloth  or  housing  of  the  medieval  knights  was  some- 
times very  large  and  gorgeous. 


•250  The  Swan's  xNest 

''Then  he  will  arise  so  pale, 
I  shall  feel  my  own  lips  tremble 
With  a  yes  I  must  not  say : 
Nathless^  maiden-brave,  *  Farewell/ 
I  will  utter,  and  dissemble — 
*  Light  to-morrow  with  to-day!* 

"Then  he'll  ride  among  the  hills 
To  the  wide  world  past  the  river. 
There  to  put  away  all  wrong, 
To  make  straight  distorted  wills. 
And  to  empty  the  broad  quiver 
^Miich  the  wicked  bear  along. 

"Three  times  shall  a  young  foot  page 

Swim  the  stream,  and  climb  the  mountain, 
And  kneel  down  beside  my  feet: 
*  Lo !  my  master  sends  this  gage,^ 
Lady,  for  thy  pity's  counting, 
^Miat  wilt  thou  exchange  for  it?' 

"And  the  first  time  I  will  send 
A  white  rosebud  for  a  guerdon — ^ 
And  the  second  time,  a  glove; 
But  the  third  time — I  may  bend 

From  my  pride,  and  answer — 'Pardon, 
If  he  comes  to  take  my  love,' 


3.  Nathless  is  an  old  word  meaning  nevertheless.  Mrs.  Browning 
uses  an  occasional  old  word,  in  order  to  give  Uie  atmosphere  of  the 
tales  of  chivalry. 

4.  The  garje  was  a  cap  or  glove,  or  some  other  symbol  to  show  that 
he  had  performed  the  deeds  which  EUie  had  demanded  ot  him. 

5.  Guerdon  means  revMrd. 


The  Swan's  Nest  251 

"Then  the  young  foot  page  will  run — 
Then  my  lover  will  ride  faster. 
Till  he  kneeleth  at  my  knee: 
*I  am  a  duke's  eldest  son! 

Thousand  serfs  do  call  me  master,-— 
But,  O  Love,  I  love  but  theeV  ".  . 

Little  Ellie,  with  her  smile 
Not  yet  ended,  rose  up  gayly. 

Tied  the  bonnet,  donned  the  shoe. 
And  went  homeward,  round  a  mile. 
Just  to  see,  as  she  did  daily. 
What  more  eggs  were  with  the  two. 

Pushing  through  the  elm-tree  copse, 
Winding  up  the  stream,  light-hearted. 
Where  the  osier  pathway  leads. 
Past  the  boughs  she  stoops,  and  stops. 
Lo,  the  wild  swan  had  deserted. 
And  a  rat  had  gnawed  the  reeds! 

Ellie  went  home  sad  and  slow. 
If  she  found  the  lover  ever. 

With  his  red-roan  steed  of  steeds, 
Sooth  I  know  not;  but  I  know 

She  could  never  show  him — never, 
That  swan's  nest  among  the  reeds. 


Mrs.  Browning  tells  us  very  little  of  Ellie  di- 
rectly, yet  she  leaves  us  with  a  charming  picture 
of  an  innocent,  imaginative,  romantic  child. 
Ellie  has  been  reading  or  listening  to  tales  of 
knight-errantry,  and  her  mind  is  full  of  them. 


252  The  Swan's  Nest 

so  that  the  **  sweetest  pleasure  .  .  .  for  her 
future"  is  a  lover  riding  straight  out  of  one  of 
the  romances.  That  she  is  only  a  child,  with  a 
child's  ideas,  we  may  see  from  the  fact  that  she 
can  think,  in  her  simplicity,  of  no  greater  reward 
for  her  noble  lover  than  a  sight  of  the  swan's 
nest  among  the  reeds,  of  A\hich  she  alone  knows. 
Mrs.  Browning  had  a  purpose  in  writing  this 
little  story  in  verse;  she  wanted  to  show  us  how 
suddenly  and  how  rudely  unpleasant  facts  can 
break  in  upon  our  dreams.  Ellie  could  never 
show  her  lover  the  swan's  nest,  as  she  had 
planned;  and  we  are  left  with  the  feeling  that 
she  never  found  the  lover  of  whom  she  dreamed 
— that  all  of  her  dream  proved  as  false  as  the 
beautiful  thought  about  the  swan's  nest. 


THE  COTTER'S  SATURDAY  NIGHT 

ROBERT  BURNS 

Note, — There  are  many  homes  we  like  to 
visit  in  imagination,  even  if  we  cannot  really  go 
into  them.  It  does  not  matter  so  much  if  they 
are  not  the  homes  of  people  in  our  own  country 
who  live  as  we  do.  For  instance,  Robert  Burns 
described  so  well  for  us  once  the  simple  little 
home  of  a  poor  Scotch  farmer  that  we  read  his 
words  again  and  again  with  pleasure.  It  is 
such  a  poor  little  place,  low-walled,  thatched- 
roofed,  part  stable,  that  it  would  be  unpleasant 
to  us  if  we  did  not  see  it  full  of  the  spirit  that 
makes  true  homes  everywhere.  The  hard-work- 
ing old  farmer,  his  faithful  wife,  their  industrious 
children,  the  oldest  girl  Jenny  and  her  lover,  all 
seem  to  us  Hke  very  real  people,  whose  joys  and 
griefs  are  ours  as  much  as  theirs.  We  should 
like  to  sit  with  them  at  their  humble  table,  to 
join  in  the  good  old  hymns,  and  finally  to  kneel 
among  them  while  the  gentle  old  man  said  the 
evening  prayer.  We  would  not  notice  their 
homely  clothes,  coarse  hands,  and  simple,  un- 
scholarly  language,  for  their  real  manliness  and 
womanliness  would  win  our  esteem  and  love. 

On  the  pages  that  follow  we  have  printed  the 
poem  as  Burns  wrote  it,  except  for  some  few 
stanzas  it  has  seemed  best  to  omit.  The  first 
nine  stanzas  contain  many  Scottish  words  and 
expressions,  but  after  the  ninth  stanza.  Burns 

268 


254      The  CorrER's  Saturday  Night 

uses  plain  English.  It  was  a  habit  he  had  of 
writing  sometimes  in  Scotch  dialect  and  some- 
times in  fine  English.  People  who  have  studied 
his  work  say  that  when  he  speaks  right  from 
his  heart  and  because  he  really  cannot  help 
writing,  he  uses  the  dialect,  but  when  he  tries  to 
teach  a  lesson,  to  advise  any  one,  or  to  moralize, 
he  always  uses  the  English  phraseology. 


I 

November  chill  blaws  loud  w^i'  angry  sugh:' 
The  short'ning  winter  day  is  near  a  close; 
The  miry  beasts  retreating  frae^  the  pleugh;^ 
The  black'ning  trains  o'  craws  to  their  re- 
pose: 
The  toil-worn  cotter  frae  his  labour  goes, 
This  night  his  w^eekly  moil*  is  at  an  end. 
Collects  his  spades,  his  mattocks,^  and  his  hoes. 
Hoping  the  morn  in  ease  and  rest  to  spend. 
And  weary,  o'er  the  moor,  his  course  does  hame- 
ward  bend. 

II 

At  length  his  lonely  cot  appears  in  view, 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree: 
Th'   expectant   wee-things,   toddhn',   stacher* 
thro' 


1.  Sugh  means  a  hollow,  roaring  sound.     It  is  our  word  sough. 

2.  Frae  is  the  Scotch  word  meaning  from. 

3.  Pleugh  means  plow. 

4.  Moil  is  a  Scotch  word  meaning  drudjery. 

5.  A  mattock  is  a   two-bladed  instrument  for  digging. 
6    Stacker  is  the  Scotch  form  of  stagger. 


The  Cotter's  Saturday    Night       255 


TH     EXPECTANT  WEE-THINGS 


To  meet  their  dad,  wi'  flichterin'^  noise  an' 


fflee. 


His  wee  bit  ingle,  blinkin'  bonnily, 

His  clean  hearth-stane,  his  thriftie  wifie*s 
smile. 
The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  knee. 
Does  a'  his  weary  carking^  cares  beguile, 
An'  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labour  and  his 
toil. 


7.  Flichtering  means  fluttering. 

8.  Corking  is  trying. 


'i56      The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 

III 

Belyve,"  the  elder  bairns  come  drappin'  in. 
At  service  out,  amang  the  farmers  roun'; 
Some  ca'^°  the  pleugh,  some  herd,  some  tentie^' 
rin 
A  cannie^^  eiTand  to  a  neebor  town: 
Their  eldest  hope,  their  Jenny,  woman  grown. 
In  youthfu'  bloom,  love  sparklin'  in  her  e'e. 
Comes  hame,  perhaps,  to  show  a  braw^^  new 
gown. 
Or  deposit  her  sair-won^*  penny  fee, 
To  help  her  parents  dear,  if  they  in  hardship  be. 

IV 

Wi*  joy  unfeign'd,  brothers  and  sisters  meet. 

And  each  for  other's  weelfare  kindly  spiers  :^^ 
The  social  hours,  swift-wing'd,  unnoticed  fleet: 

Each  tells  the  uncos^^  that  he  sees  or  hears; 
The  parents,  partial,  eye  their  hopeful  years; 

Anticipation  forward  points  the  view; 
The  mother,  wi'  her  needle  an'  her  shears. 

Gars  auld  claes  look  amaist  as  weel's  the 
new;^' 
The  father  mixes  a'  wi'  admonition  due. 


9.  Belyve  means  soon. 

10.  Ca'  means  drive. 

11.  Tentie  means  carefully. 

12.  Cannie  means  here  prudent,  or  trusty, 

13.  Braw  is  fine,  gay. 

14.  Sair-won  is  hard-earned. 
\5.  Spiers  means  enquires, 

16.  The  uruMS  is  the  news. 

17.  This  line  means  Makes  old  clothes  look  almost  as  well  as  new 
one*. 


The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night      ^57 


Their  master's  an'  their  mistress's  command, 

The  younkers^^  a'  are  warned  to  obey: 
*'An'  mind  their  labours  wi'  an  eydent^^  hand. 
An'   ne'er,   tho'   out  o'   sight,  to  jauk^"  or 
play: 
An'  O!  be  sure  to  fear  the  Lord  alway! 

An'  mind  your  duty,  duly,  morn  an'  night! 
Lest  in  temptation's  path  ye  gang  astray. 
Implore  his  counsel  and  assisting  might: 
They  never  sought  in  vain,  that  sought  the  Lord 
aright!" 

VI 

But  hark!  a  rap  comes  gently  to  the  door; 

Jenny,  wha  kens  the  meaning  o'  the  same. 
Tells  how  a  neebor  lad  cam'  o'er  the  moor, 

To  do  some  errands,  and  convoy  her  hame.-' 
The  wily  mother  sees  the  conscious  flame 
Sparkle    in    Jenny's    e'e,^^    and    flush    her 
cheek; 
With  heart-struck,  anxious  care,  inquires  his 
name, 
While  Jenny  haflSins^^  is  afraid  to  speak; 
Weel  pleas'd  the  mother  hears,  it's  nae^*  wild, 
worthless  rake. 


18.  The  younlcers  are  the  youngstera. 

19.  Eydent  is  diligent. 

20.  To  jauk  is  to  trifle. 

21.  I  lame  is  the  Scotch  form  of  our  word  home, 

22.  /i'c  is  a  contraction  for  eye. 

23.  IJafflins  means  partly. 

24.  Nae  means  no. 


•ioS        Thi:  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 

VII 

Wi'  kindly  welcome,  Jenny  brings  him  benr' 
A   strappin'   youth;   he  takes  the  mother's 
eye; 
Blythe  Jenny  sees  the  visit's  no  ill  ta'en;^" 
The  father  cracks^'  of  horses,  pleughs,  and 
kve.^^ 

a/ 

The  youngster's  artless  heart  o'erflows  wi'  joy. 
But  blate^^  and  laithfu',^"  scarce  can  wee) 
behave ; 
The  mother,  wi'  a  woman's  wiles,  can  spy 
WTiat  makes  the  youth  sae^^  bashfu'  an'  sae 
grave; 
Weel  pleas'd  to  think  her  bairn's  respected  like 
the  lave.^- 

Mil 

But  now  the  supper  crowns  their  simple  board. 

The  halesome  parritch,^^   chief  o'   Scotia's 

food: 

The  sowpe^*  their  only  Hawkie^^  does  afford. 

That  'yont  the  hallan^^  snugly  chows  her 

cood  f 


25.  Den  means  into  the  room, 

26.  That  is,  the  visit  is  not  unwelcome. 

27.  Cracks  is  a  Scotch  word  meaning  chats. 

28.  Kye  are  cattle. 

29.  Blate  means  modest. 

30.  Laithfu    is  bashful. 

31.  Sae  is  the  Scotch  form  of  so. 

32.  The  lave  is  the  others;  that  is,  the  neighbors'  girls. 

33.  The  halesome  parritch  is  the  wlwlesome  porridge  of  oatmeaL 

34.  Sowpe  here  means  a  Httle  quantity  of  milk. 

35.  Hawkie  is  a  white-faced  cow. 

36.  That  is,  beyond  the  partition. 

37.  Chows  her  cood  means  chews  her  cud.. 


JEa^TNIE  BRINGS   IIM  BEN 


-J       III 

f^ 

P 

% 

W\ 

t 

* 1 

Q 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night      259 


ROUND  THE  INGLE 


The     dame    brings    forth    in    compHmental 
mood 
To  grace  the  lad,  her  weel-hain'd^^  kebbuck^" 
fell— 
An'  aft  he's  prest,  an'  aft  he  ca's  it  guid;^" 

The  frugal  wifie,  garrulous,  will  tell, 
How  'twas  a  towmond^'  auld,  sin'  lint  was  i' 
the  bell.^=^ 


38.  Weel-hain'd  means  carefully  preserved. 

39.  Kehhuck  is  cheese. 

40.  Thi.s  line,  in  English,  would  read  Ami  often  lie  is  urged  (to  take 
more)  and  often  he  calls  it  (jood. 

41.  A  tou'mond  is  a  twelvemonlJi,  a  year. 

42.  Since  flax  was  in  blossom. 


i60      The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 

IX 

The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face, 

They,  round  the  ingle,  form  a  circle  wide: 
The  sire  turns  o'er,  wi'  patriarchal  grace. 

The  big  ha'-Bible,^^  ance^^  his  father's  pride. 
His  bonnet^^  rev'rently  is  laid  aside, 

His  lyart^"  haffets''  wearing  thin  an'  bare; 
Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide. 
He  wales**  a  portion  with  judicious  care; 
And  "  Let  us  worship  God ! "  he  says,  with  solemn 
air. 

X 

They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise; 

They  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim : 
Perhaps  Dundee's  wild  warbling  measures  rise 

Or  plaintive  Martyrs,  worthy  of  the  name, 
Or  noble  Elgin  beats  the  heav'nward  flame, 

The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays; 
Compared  with  these,  Italian  trills  are  tame; 

The  tickl'd  ears  no  heart-felt  raptures  raise; 
Nae  unison  hae  they  with  our  Creator's  praise. 

XI 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  page. 
How  Abram  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high; 

Or,  Moses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage 
With  Amalek's  ungracious  progeny; 

43.  The  ha'-Bible  is  the  family  Bible,  which  is  kept  in  the  hall,  or 
the  best  room. 

44.  Ance  is  the  Scotch  form  of  om». 

45.  That  is,  his  hat. 

46.  Lyart  means  gray. 

47.  Haffets  means  temples. 

48.  Walet   means   choosea. 


The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night       261 

Or  how  the  royal  bard  did  groaning  He 

Beneath    the    stroke    of    Heav'n's    avenging 
ire; 

Or  Job's  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry; 
Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wild,  seraphic  fire; 

Or  other  holy  seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre. 

XII 

Perhaps  the  Christian  volume  is  the  theme, 
How    guiltless    blood     for    guilty    man    was 
shed; 
How  He,  who  bore  in  heaven  the  second  name. 

Had  not  on  earth  whereon  to  lay  his  head; 
How  his  first  followers  and  servants  sped; 
The   precepts    sage    they   WTote   to   many   a 
land: 
How  he,,  who  lone  in  Patmos  banished. 
Saw  in  the  sun  a  mighty  angel  stand, 
And  heard  great  Bab'lon's  doom  pronounc'd  by 
Heaven's  command. 

XIII 

Then  kneeling  down,  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King, 

The  saint,  the  father,  and  the  husband  prays: 
Hope  "springs  exultant  on  triumphant  wing:" 

That  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days 
There  ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays. 

No  more  to  sigh,  or  shed  the  bitter  tear, 
Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise, 

In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear; 
While  circling  time  moves  round  in  an  eternal 
sphere. 

Vol.  IX.- 18. 


^2&l 


Thi:  Goiter's  Saturday  Night 


XIV 


Compar'd  with  this,  how  poor  Religion's  pride. 

In  all  the  pomp  of  method  and  of  art, 
\Mien  men  display  to  congregations  wide, 

Devotion's  ev'ry  grace,  except  the  heart! 
The  Pow'r,  incensed,  the  pageant  will  desert. 

The  pompous  strain,  the  sacerdotal  stole; 
But,  haply,  in  some  cottage  far  apart, 

May  hear,  well  pleased,  the  language  of  the 
soul; 
And  in  the  book  of  hfe  the  inmates  poor  enroll. 

XV 

Then  homeward  all  take  off  their  sev'ral  way; 

The  youngling  cottagers  retire  to  rest: 
The  parent-pair  their  secret  homage  pay, 

And  proffer  up  to  Heaven  the  warm  request. 
That  He,  who  stills  the  raven's  clam'rous  nest, 

And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flow'ry  pride. 
Would,  in  the  way  his  wisdom  sees  the  best. 

For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide; 
But,  chiefly,  in  their  hearts  with  grace  divine 
preside. 


CHARLES  AND  MARY  LAMB 

NE  of  the  most  tragic,  and  at  the 
same  time  one  of  the  most  heroic, 
of  true  stories  is  that  of  Charles 
and  Mary  Lamb,  the  brother  and 
sister  who  are  known  to  milUons 
^:  of  young  people  as  the  writers  of 
Tales  from  Shakespeare. 
Charles  Lamb  was  rather  a  short  man,  with  a 
spare  body  and  legs  so  small  and  thin  that 
Thomas  Hood  once  spoke  of  them  as  "imma- 
terial legs."  His  head,  however,  was  large,  and 
his  brow  fine;  his  nose,  large  and  hooked,  was  in 
a  face  which  early  showed  lines  of  care  and 
trouble;  his  eyes  were  large  and  expressive, 
twinkling  with  humor  but  full  of  piercing  in- 
quiry, and  searching  with  keen  interest  every- 
thing about  him;  his  mouth  was  large  and  firm, 
but  around  it  there  flitted  a  smile  that  showed 
the  genial,  humorous  soul  of  the  big-hearted 
boy. 

Lamb's  habits  were  peculiar,  there  is  no  deny- 
ing thut,  and  his  habits  of  dress  made  him  even 
more  noticeable.  Almost  always  he  wore  a 
black  coat,  knickerbockers  and  black  gaiters. 
The  old-fashioned  cut  of  his  clothes  and  their 
worn  appearance  showed  the  narrowness  of  his 
means,  which,  however,  never  caused  him  to 
neglect  either  clothing  or  person,  for  he  was 
remarkably  neat  in  his  ways. 

263 


•-264.  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb 

Although  a  poor  boy,  he  was  educated  in  the 
famous  old  Christ's  Hospital  School  in  London, 
but  Avhen  he  was  ready  for  college  he  found 
himself  barred  by  his  stammering,  stuttering 
tongue.  Giving  up  his  hope  of  further  schooling, 
he  was  glad  to  take  a  small  clerkship  in  a  gov- 
ernment office,  where  he  remained  for  thirty- 
three  years,  a  long  period  with  little  or  no  ad- 
vancement. 

It  was  in  1792,  when  Charles  was  about 
seventeen  years  of  age,  that  he  was  given  his 
clerkship,  and  for  nearly  four  years  he  lived 
happily,  supporting  his  parents  and  his  sister  in 
their  humble  home.  jNlary  was  eleven  years 
older  than  Charles,  a  quiet,  gentle  creature 
whom  everybody  loved,  though  in  some  respects 
she  was  peculiar.  There  were  things,  too,  that 
troubled  the  family  and  made  them  reserved  and 
inclined  to  be  oversensitive.  Not  only  were  they 
very  poor,  but  there  had  been  insanity  on  the 
mother's  side,  and  Charles,  himself,  had  at 
one  time  been  in  brief  confinement  for  irrational 
actions.  Mary,  too,  had  occasionally  shown 
signs  of  madness,  but  no  one  anticipated  the 
dreadful  event  which  took  place  in  1796. 

It  came  upon  them  like  a  stroke  of  lightning 
out  of  a  clear  sky.  All  were  gathered  together 
for  their  noon  meal  when  ]Mar}^  leaped  to  her 
feet  and  ran  wildly  about  the  room,  shrieking  in 
the  terrifying  tones  of  the  insane.  She  caught 
the  forks  and  spoons  from  the  table,  threw  them 
about  the  room,  and  then,  seizing  a  case  knife, 
plunged  it  into  the  heart  of  her  mother.  Although 


Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  265 

one  of  the  flying  forks  had  struck  her  aged 
father  in  the  head  and  wounded  him  severely, 
Mary  sprang  upon  him  and  would  certainly 
have  killed  the  feeble  old  man  then  and  there 
had  not  Charles  caught  her  and  in  a  terrible 
struggle  overpowered  her  and  wrested  the  knife 
from  her  grasp.  Friends  and  neighbors  came 
in,  and  the  poor  woman  was  taken  to  an  asylum, 
where  in  a  short  time  she  recovered  her  reason 
and  learned  of  the  awful  consequences  of  her 
madness.  In  those  days  hospitals  for  the  in- 
sane were  much  more  poorly  managed  than  they 
are  at  present,  and  Charles  could  not  be  con- 
tented to  think  of  his  sister  confined  within  their 
walls.  Accordingly  he  went  to  the  authorities, 
and  after  much  persuasion  they  released  her, 
under  the  condition  that  she  should  be  con- 
stantly under  care. 

Then  began  that  long  career  of  brotherly 
devotion  which  can  scarcely  be  matched,  and 
which  never  fails  to  excite  our  sympathy  and 
admiration.  We  may  well  think  it  a  terrible 
penance,  for  Mary's  attacks  recurred  again  and 
again,  and  more  than  once  Charles  had  to  take 
her  back  to  the  hospital  for  a  brief  time  while  her 
violence  remained  too  great  for  him  to  control. 
There  were  long  lucid  intervals,  however,  and 
after  a  while  both  learned  to  recognize  the 
symptoms  which  preceded  an  attack,  and  the 
two  would  wend  their  way  to  the  asylum,  where 
she  could  take  refuge.  They  carried  a  strait- 
jacket  with  them  for  use  in  case  she  should 
suddenly  become  violent,  for  never  could  either 


^266  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb 

escape  from  the  nightmare  of  that  first  awful 
catastrophe. 

For  forty  years  this  companionship,  this 
subHme  devotion  continued,  even  to  the  time 
of  Charles  Lamb's  death  in  1834.  Both  made 
many  friends,  and  when  the  brother  was  laid 
away  these  friends  came  forward  and  took  up 
the  burden  of  Mary's  care  until  she,  too,  died, 
nearly  thirteen  years  later.  The  last  years  of 
Lamb's  life  were  full  of  further  trouble,  that, 
combined  with  his  crushing  anxiety  for  Mary, 
broke  his  genial  spirit  and  left  him  sad  and 
melancholy. 

One  of  the  greatest  blows  he  suffered  in  his 
later  life  was  the  death  of  his  life-long  friend 
Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  See  how  fondly  he 
wrote  of  this  friend: 

"Since  I  feel  how  great  a  part  he  was  of  me 
his  great  and  dear  spirit  haunts  me.  I  cannot 
think  a  thought,  I  cannot  make  a  criticism  on 
men  or  books  without  an  ineffectual  turning 
and  reference  to  him.  .  .  .  He  was  my 
fifty  years  old  friend  without  a  dissension.  I 
seem  to  love  the  house  he  died  at  more  passion- 
ately than  when  he  died.  .  .  .  What  was 
his  mansion  is  consecrated  to  me  a  chapel." 

It  is  said  that  when  his  sister  was  first  stricken 
Lamb  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Ann 
Simmons,  a  sweet  woman,  whom  he  loved  pas- 
sionately. So  awful  was  the  blow  and  so 
heavy  the  responsibihty  he  assumed  that  the 
match  was  broken  off,  and  the  gentle  man 
resigned   his   hope   of  home   and    family.      We 


Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  "267 

shall  see,  however,  that  he  never  quite  forgot  his 
love. 

Sad  as  their  life  certainly  was,  there  were 
many  pleasant  days  for  both  brother  and  sister. 
Between  her  spells  of  violence  Mary  was  a 
charming  companion,  a  helpful  adviser  and  a 
writer  of  great  ability,  as  loyal  to  her  brother 
as  he  was  to  her.  When  Lamb  was  engaged  to 
write  the  Tales  from  Shakespeare,  she  took  up 
the  pen  with  him  and  wrote  the  stories  of  the 
great  poet's  comedies  while  Charles  wrote  the 
tragedies. 

How  strong  his  affection  and  respect  for  her 
really  were  we  may  see  from  his  own  words:  "I 
am  a  fool  bereft  of  her  co-operation.  I  am  used 
to  look  up  at  her  in  the  worst  and  biggest  per- 
plexities. To  say  all  that  I  find  her  would  be 
more  than  I  think  anybody  could  possibly  under- 
stand. She  is  older,  wiser,  and  better  than  I 
am,  and  all  my  wretched  imperfections  I  cover 
to  myself  by  resolutely  thinking  on  her  goodness. 
She  would  share  life  and  death  with  me." 

A  more  lovable  character  than  Lamb's  is  hard 
to  find.  Full  of  fun  he  was  when  with  his  friends, 
punning,  quibbling  and  joking  in  quaint  and 
original  ways  that  made  him  welcome  wherever 
he  went.  "The  best  acid  is  assiduity"  was  one 
of  his  famous  puns,  and  '^No  work  is  worse 
than  overwork"  is  one  of  his  wise  and  witty 
remarks. 

The  stuttering  which  in  some  persons  might 
have  seemed  an  annoyance  only  served  to  add 
a  certain  spiciness  to  his    good-natured    quips. 


268  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb 

It  is  said  that  a  certain  gushing  lady  once  went 
into  a  long  description  of  her  children  and  her 
own  passionate  love  for  them.  Suddenly  in- 
terrupting herself  she  said  to  Lamb,  "And  how 
do  you  like  babies,  ]\Ir.  Lamb  ?  "  With  a  sober 
face,  but  unable  to  conceal  the  humorous  twinkle 
in  his  sharp  eyes,  Charles  replied,  "Bub-bub- 
boiled,  MadamV' 

Lamb's  friendship  for  Coleridge  was  fully 
returned,  as  we  may  see  from  many  things  the 
latter  wrote.  At  one  time  he  said:  "Lamb's 
character  is  a  sacred  one  with  me.  No  asso- 
ciations that  he  may  form  can  hurt  the  purity  of 
his  mind.  .  .  .  Nothing  ever  left  a  stain  on 
that  gentle  creature's  mind." 

In  1825  Lamb's  health  became  so  poor  that 
he  was  compelled  to  give  up  his  clerkship,  and 
thereafter  he  lived  most  of  the  time  at  Edmonton. 
The  British  government  gave  him  an  annual 
pension  of  £441,  which  sufficed  for  the  simple 
wants  of  himself  and  his  sister. 

The  immediate  cause  of  his  death  was  a  slight 
accident  that  befell  him  a  few  months  after  the 
burial  of  Coleridge.  Unconsciousness  came  be- 
fore he  had  been  long  ill  and  before  any  of  his 
intimate  friends  could  reach  him,  yet  it  was  their 
names  that  were  last  upon  his  lips.  They 
buried  him  in  the  churchyard  at  Edmonton,  as 
he  wished,  where  on  his  tombstone  may  be  read: 

"Farewell,  dear  friend  ? — that  smile,  that  harm- 
less mirth. 
No  more  shall  gladden  our  domestic  hearth; 


Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  269 

That  rising  tear,  with  pain  forbid  to  flow — 
Better  than  words — no  more  assuage  our  woe. 
That  hand  outstretch'd  from  small  but  well- 
earned  store 
Yield  succor  to  the  destitute  no  more. 
Yet  art  thou  not  all  lost.      Through  many  an 

age, 
With  sterling  sense  and  humour,  shall  thy  page 
Win  many  an  English  bosom,  pleased  to  see 
That  old  and  happier  vein  revived  in  thee. 
This  for  our  earth ;  and  if  with  friends  we  share 
Our  joys  in  heaven  we  hope  to  meet  thee  there." 

Besides  the  Tales  from  Shakespeare,  Charles 
Lamb  wrote  many  beautiful  sketches  which  are 
known  as  the  Essays  of  Ella.  Elia  was  the 
name  of  one  of  the  clerks  in  the  South  Sea  House, 
where  Lamb  worked  at  one  time. 

A  reader  can  easily  form  some  idea  of  a 
writer's  character  from  his  work,  but  Lamb  was 
always  so  wholly  himself,  and  he  threw  himself 
so  freely  into  his  essays,  that  you  can  tell  just 
what  manner  of  man  he  was  as  you  read.  A 
large  part  of  the  pleasure  of  reading  him  comes 
from  this  trait.  We  seem  to  be  sitting  with  a 
charmino-  friend  whenever  we  hold  one  of  his 
books,  and  to  feel  that  the  friend  is  pouring  out 
his  whole  heart  for  our  delight  and  inspiration. 
Naturally  a  person  must  keep  alert  when  he  is 
reading  from  Charles  Lamb,  for  no  one  can 
predict  what  course  the  brilliant  mind  will  take. 
When  once  a  reader  has  learned  to  understand 
his  oddities,  delicate  sentiment,  bright  wit  and 


270  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb 

loving  faithfulness,  even-'  word  becomes  a  living 
thing,  and  every  reading  a  new  delight,  a  higher 
inspiration.  In  none  of  his  essays  is  he  seen  to 
greater  advantage  than  in  Dream  Children^ 
which  follows  this  brief  sketch.  The  only 
people  young  or  old  who  do  not  love  this  beauti- 
ful essay  are  those  who  have  not  read  it  or  who 
have  read  it  without  really  understanding  it. 
You  may  need  to  read  it  once  just  to  see  what  it 
is  about;  again  with  the  aid  of  the  notes  and  com- 
ments we  make  upon  it;  a  third  time  to  let  it  cast 
its  spell  upon  you.  If  you  do  that  you  will  not 
forget  it,  but  wdll  return  to  it  often  as  years  go  on 
and  the  hard  world  buffets  you  with  those  stern 
experiences  which  make  you  men  and  w'omen. 
Every  time  you  read  it  you  wdll  find  new  graces, 
more  touching  sentiment. 

Will  you  read  it  now  for  the  first  time,  paying 
only  so  much  attention  to  the  footnotes  as  may 
be  necessary  for  you  to  understand  the  language  ? 


CIIABLE8    LAAIB 


DREAM  CHILDREN:    A  REVERY 

CHARLES  LAMB 

HILDREN  love  to  listen  to  stories 
about  their  elders  when  they  were 
children ;  to  stretch  their  imagina- 
tion to  the  conception  of  a  tradi- 
tionary great-uncle,  or  grandame, 
whom  they  never  saw. 

It  was  in  this  spirit  that  my 
little  ones  crept  about  me  the  other  evening  to 
hear  about  their  great-grandmother  Field/  who 
lived  in  a  great  house  in  Norfolk  (a  hundred 
times  bigger  than  that  in  which  they  and  papa 
lived)  which  had  been  the  scene — so  at  least 
it  was  generally  believed  in  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try— of  the  tragic  incidents  which  they  had 
lately  become  familiar  with  from  the  ballad  of 
the  Children  in  the  Wood.^ 

Certain  it  is  that  the  whole  story  of  the  children 
and  their  cruel  uncle  was  to  be  seen  fairly  carved 
out  in  wood  upon  the  chimney-piece  of  the  great 
hall,^  the  whole  story  down  to  the  Robin  Red- 
breast; till  a  foolish  rich  person  pulled  it  down 


1.  Lamb's  grandmother,  Mary  Field,  was  for  a  long  time  house- 
keeper in  one  of  the  greal  English  country  houses,  but  not  in  the  county 
alluded  to  in  the  tc:\t. 

2.  This  means  that  the  incidents  hud  but  lately  become  familiar 
to  the  children.  The  story  is  the  old  one  of  the  Babes  in  ifte  Wood, 
as  it  is  sometimes  called. 

3.  One  of  Lamb's  fancies;  the  chimney-carving  in  the  real  house 
represented  stag  and  boar  hunts. 

271 


.27  2         Dream  Children:   A  Revert 

to  set  up  a  marble  one  of  modern  invention  in  its 
stead,  with  no  story  upon  it. 

Here  Alice  put  out  one  of  her  dear  mother's 
looks,  too  tender  to  be  called  upbraiding. 

Then  I  went  on  to  say,  how  religious  and  how 
good  their  great-grandmother  Field  was,  how 
beloved  and  respected  by  everybody,  though  she 
was  not  indeed  the  mistress  of  this  great  house, 
but  had  only  the  charge  of  it  (and  yet  in  some 
respects  she  might  be  said  to  be  the  mistress  of 
it  too)  committed  to  her  by  the  owner,  who 
preferred  living  in  a  newer  and  more  fashionable 
mansion  which  he  had  purchased  somewhere  in 
the  adjoining  county;  but  still  she  lived  in  it  in 
a  manner  as  if  it  had  been  her  own,  and  kept 
up  the  dignity  of  the  great  house  in  a  sort  while 
she  lived.  Afterwards  it  came  to  decay,  and  was 
nearly  pulled  down,  and  all  its  old  ornaments 
stripped  and  carried  away  to  the  owner's  other 
house,  where  they  were  set  up,  and  looked  as 
awkward  as  if  some  one  were  to  carry  away  the 
old  tombs  they  had  seen  lately  at  the  Abbey,*  and 
stick  them  up  in  Lady's  C.'s^  tawdry  gilt  drawing- 
room. 

Here  John  smiled,  as  much  as  to  say,  "that 
W'Ould  be  foolish  indeed." 

And  then  I  told  how,  when  she  came  to  die, 
her  funeral  was  attended  by  a  concourse  of  all 
the  poor,  and  some  of  the  gentry  too,  of  the 
neighborhood  for  many  miles  around,  to  show 
their  respect  for  her  memory,  because  she  had 

4.  Westminster  Abbey. 

5.  Ad  imaginary  person  ^ith  a  cheap,  showy  drawing-room. 


Dream  Children:   A  Revery         273 

been  such  a  good  and  religious  woman;  so  good 
indeed  that  she  knew  all  the  Psaltery^  by  heart, 
ay,  and  a  great  part  of  the  Testament^  besides. 

Here  little  Alice  spread  her  hands. 

Then  I  told  what  a  tall,  upright,  gracious 
person  their  great-grandmother  Field  once  was; 
and  how  in  her  youth  she  was  esteemed  the  best 
dancer, — here  Alice's  little  right  foot  played  an 
involuntary  movement,  till,  upon  my  looking 
grave,  it  desisted, — the  best  dancer,  I  was  saying, 
in  the  country,  till  a  cruel  disease,  called  a 
cancer,  came,  and  bowed  her  down  with  pain; 
but  it  could  never  bend  her  good  spirits,  or  make 
them  stoop,  but  they  were  still  upright,  because 
she  was  so  good  and  religious. 

Then  I  told  how  she  used  to  sleep  by  herself 
in  a  lone  chamber  of  the  great  lone  house;  and 
how  she  believed  that  an  apparition  of  two 
infants  w^as  to  be  seen  at  midnight  gliding  up  and 
dow^n  the  great  staircase  near  where  she  slept,  but 
she  said  "those  innocents  would  do  her  no 
harm;"  and  how  frightened  I  used  to  be,  though 
in  those  days  I  had  my  maid  to  sleep  with  me, 
because  I  was  never  half  so  good  or  religious  as 
she, — and  yet  I  never  saw  the  infants. 

Here  John  exjjanded  all  his  eyebrows  and 
tried  to  look  courageous. 

Then  I  told  how  good  she  w  as  to  all  her  grand- 
children, havino-  us  to  the  orcat  house  in  the 
holidays,  Avliere   I   in   particular  used   to  s{)end 

7.  The  Rook  of  Psalms,  or  siuli  ;i  ixirlion  of  it  as  is  used  in  the 
services  of  llie  English  C'liurrh. 

8.  New  Testament. 


274        Dream  Children:   A  Revert 

many  hours  by  myself,  in  gazing  upon  the  old 
busts  of  the  twelve  Ctesars,  that  had  been  Em- 
perors of  Rome,  till  the  old  marble  heads  would 
seem  to  live  again,  or  I  to  be  turned  into  marble 
with  them;  how  I  never  could  be  tired  with 
roaming  about  that  huge  mansion,  with  its  vast 
empty  rooms,  with  their  w^orn-out  hangings, 
fluttering  tapestry,  and  carved  oaken  panels, 
with  the  gilding  almost  rubbed  out, — sometimes 
in  the  spacious  old-fashioned  gardens,  which  I 
had  almost  to  myself,  unless  when  now  and  then 
a  solitary  gardening  man  would  cross  me, — and 
how  the  nectarines  and  peaches  hung  upon  the 
walls,^  without  my  ever  offering  to  pluck  them, 
because  they  were  forbidden  fruit,  unless  now 
and  then, — and  because  I  had  more  pleasure  in 
strolling  about  among  the  old  melancholy-looking 
yew-trees,^**  or  the  firs,  and  picking  up  the  red 
berries,  and  the  fir-apples,  which  were  good  for 
nothing  but  to  look  at, — or  in  lying  about  upon 
the  fresh  grass  with  all  the  fine  garden  smells 
around  me, — or  basking  in  the  orangery,"  till  I 
could  almost  fancy  myself  ripening  too  along 
with  the  oranges  and  the  limes  in  that  grateful 
warmth, — or  in  watching  the  dace^^  that  darted 
to  and  from  the  fish-pond,  at  the  bottom  of  the 

9.  The  trees  were  planted  on  the  south  side  of  the  walls,  which  pro- 
tected them  from  the  north  wind  and  rii>ened  them  by  reflected  warmth. 

10.  The  foliage  of  the  j'ews  is  very  dark,  and  because  these  trees 
are  so  often  planted  about  cemeteries  they  give  a  hint  of  sadness  to 
every  one. 

11.  The  glass  house  which  protected  the  trees  in  the  winter  and 
hastened  the  ripening  of  the  fruit  in  summer. 

12.  A  small  fish  resembling  our  chub — usually  seen  in  schools  in 
still  waters. 


Dream  Children:   A  Revert        275 

garden,  w^th  here  and  there  a  great  sulky  pike 
hanging  midway  down  the  water  in  silent  state, 
as  if  it  mocked  at  their  impertinent  friskings, — I 
had  more  pleasure  in  these  busy-idle  diversions 
than  in  all  the  sweet  flavors  of  peaches,  necta- 
rines, oranges,  and  such-like  common  baits  of 
children. 

Here  John  slyly  deposited  back  upon  the 
plate  a  bunch  of  grapes,  which,  not  unobserved 
by  Alice,  he  had  meditated  dividing  with  her, 
and  both  seemed  willing  to  relinquish  them  for 
the  present  as  irrelevant. 

Then,  in  somewhat  a  more  heightened  tone,  I 
told  how,  though  their  great-grandmother  Field 
loved  all  her  grandchildren,  yet  in  an  especial 
manner  she  might  be  said  to  love  their  uncle, 

John  L ,^^  because  he  was  so  handsome  and 

spirited  a  youth,  and  a  king  to  the  rest  of  us;  and, 
instead  of  moping  about  in  solitary  corners,  like 
some  of  us,  he  would  mount  the  most  mettlesome 
horse  he  could  get,  when  but  an  imp  no  bigger 
than  themselves,  and  make  it  carry  him  half  over 
the  county  in  a  morning,  and  join  the  hunters 
when  there  were  any  out, — and  yet  he  loved  the 
old  great  house  and  gardens  too,  but  had  too 
much  spirit  to  be  always  pent  up  within  their 
boundaries; — and  how  their  uncle  grew  up  to 
man's  estate  as  brave  as  he  was  handsome,  to  the 
admiration  of  everybody,  but  of  their  great- 
grandmother  Field  most  especially;  and  how  he 

13.  Lamb's  Jirotlier  John — twelve  years  his  senior.  John  was 
rather  a  lazy,  selfish  fellow — at  least  he  never  gave  up  his  own  pleasures 
and  comforts  to  assist  his  iamily,  even  in  thair  gravest  need 


"^TG 


Dream  Children:   A  Revert 


used  to  carry  me  upon  his  back  when  I  was  a 
hi  me- footed'^  boy — for  he  was  a  good  bit  older 
than  I^many  a  mile  when  I  could  not  walk 
for  pain;  and  how  in  after  life  he  became  lame- 
footed  too,  and  I  did  not  always  (I  fear)  make 
allowances  enough  for  him  when  he  was  im- 
patient and  in  pain,  nor  remember  suflSciently 


^^ry^ 


HE  WOULD   MOUNT  A   METTLESOME   HORSE 


how  considerate  he  had  been  to  me  when  I  was 
lame-footed; — and  how  when  he  died,^^  though 
he  had  not  been  dead  an  hour,  it  seemed  as  if 
he  had  died  a  great  while  ago,  such  a  distance 
there  is  betwixt  life  and  death;  and  how  I  bore 

14.  This  probably  alludes  to  some  temporary  affliction,  for  Charles 
Lamb  was  not  lame. 

15.  John  Lamb  died  just  before  this  essay  was  wTitten. 


Dream  Children:   A  Revery        277 

his  death,  as  1  thought  pretty  well  at  first,  but 
afterwards  it  haunted  and  haunted  me;  and 
though  I  did  not  cry  or  take  it  to  heart  as  some 
do,  and  as  I  think  he  would  have  done  if  I  had 
died,  yet  I  missed  him  all  day  long,  and  knew 
not  till  then  how  much  I  had  loved  him.  I  missed 
his  kindness,  and  I  missed  his  crossness,  and 
wished  him  to  be  alive  again,  to  be  quarrel- 
ing with  him  (for  we  quarreled  sometimes), 
rather  than  not  have  him  again,  and  was  as 
uneasy  without  him,  as  he  their  poor  uncle 
must  have  been  when  the  doctor  took  off  his 
limb. 

Here  the  children  fell  a-crying,  and  asked  if 
their  little  mourning  which  they  had  on  was  not 
for  Uncle  John,  and  they  looked  up,  and  prayed 
me  not  to  go  on  about  their  uncle,  but  to  tell 
them  some  stories  about  their  pretty  dead 
mother. 

Then  I  told  how,  for  seven  long  years,  in  hope 
sometimes,  sometimes  in  despair,  yet  persisting 
ever,  I  courted  the  fair  Alice  W — n;'"  and,  as 
much  as  children  could  understand,  I  explained 
to  them  what  coyness,  and  difficulty,  and  denial 
meant  in  maidens. 

When  suddenly  turning  to  Alice,  the  soul  of 
the  first  Alice  looked  out  at  her  eyes  with  such  a 
reality  of  representment,  that  I  became  in  doubt 
which  of  them  stood  before  me,  or  whose  that 
bright  hair  was;  and  while  I  stood  gazing,  both 


IG.  It  is  not  known  positively  whether  Alice  Warren  was  a  real  or  an 
imaginary  character.  If  real,  she  was  probably  the  Ann  Simmons 
mentioned  in  the  sketch  of  Lamb. 


Vol    TX.-19. 


278        Dream  Children:   A  Revert 


I  AWOKE 


the  children  gradually  grew  fainter  to  my  view, 
receding,  and  still  receding,  till  nothing  at  last 
but  two  mournful  features  were  seen  in  the  utter- 


Dream  Children:  A  Revert        2'79 

most  distance,  which,  without  speech,  strangely 
impressed  upon  mc  the  effects  of  speech: 

*'Wc  are  not  of  AHce,  nor  of  thee,  nor  eve 
we  children  at  all.  The  children  of  Alice  cal» 
Bartram  father.  We  are  nothino;:  less  th?.n 
nothing,  and  dreams.  We  are  only  what  mi^at 
have  been,  and  must  wait  upon  the  tedioas 
shores  of  Lethe^^  millions  of  ages  before  we  Iw^^e 
existence,  and  a  name." 

iVnd  immediately  awaking,  I  found  myFe'f 
quietly  seated  in  my  bachelor  armchair,  whcr"  f 
had  fallen  asleep,  with  the  faithful  Bridg^fc-^ 
unchanged  by  my  side, — ^but  John  L.  (or  James 
Elia)  was  gone  forever. 

You  know  Lamb's  pathetic  history,  and  yoa 
can  see  how  Dream  Children  came  right  out  of 
his  own  sad  heart,  and  how  it  teems  with 
afl'ectionate  recollection.  The  children,  too, — 
do  they  not  seem  like  living  beings.?  Can  you 
believe  that  Alice  and  John  never  lived  ?  Let 
us  go  back  to  the  essay  and  see  how  little  it  is  that 
he  really  says  about  them.     Here  it  is: 

ALICE.  JOHN. 

1.  Here   Alice  put   out   one  of  1.  Here  John  smiled  as  much 

her  dear  motlier's  looks,  too  tender  as  to  say,  "that  would  be  foolish 

to  be  upbraiding.  iiulecd." 

She   thought   it   very   sad   that  John    is    quite    the    boy — wise 

any  one  should  pull  down  the  beau-  enough   to  sec   how   ridiculous   it 

tiful  mantcl|)icce  in  the  great  hall,  was  to  put  a  fine,  rich  old  carved 

but  she  would  not  find  fault  with  cliininey     among    a     lot    of    gilt 

him — she  was  too  gentle,  too  tender  gimcracks — and  rather  anxious  to 

for   that!  show  his  wisdom. 


17.  Lethe  was  among  the  ancient  Greeks  the  name  giv(tfi  to  the  rivei 
of  oblivion,  of  whose  waters  spirits  drank  to  gain  forgelfulnass. 

18.  Bridget  Elia  is  his  sister,  Mary  Lamb. 


^280 


Dream  Children:   A  Revert 


2.  Here  John  expanded  all  his 
eyebrows  and  tried  to  look  cour- 
ageous. 

The  tale  of  the  ghostly  infants 
has  frightened  John  a  little,  but 
he  does  not  hke  to  admit  any 
timidity  there  with  his  father  and 
sister,  so  he  straightens  up,  ex- 
pands his  eyebrows  and  looks 
very  brave  and  manly. 

3.  Here  John  slyly  deposited 
back  upon  the  plate  a  bunch  of 
grapes  which,  not  unobserved  by 
Alice,  lie  had  meditated  dividing 
with  Iter;  and  both  seemed  willing 
to  relinquish  tJieni  for  the  present 
as  irrelevant. 

While  the  father  has  been  tell- 
ing of  his  glorious  childhood 
among  the  rich  fruit  on  the  great 
estate,  John  has  quietly  picked 
up  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  his 
quick-witted  father,  seeing  the 
act,  sneers  a  little  at  such-like 
common  baits  of  children.  John, 
^\•ishing  to  be  manly,  puts  the 
grapes  back  without  a  word, 
though  e^'idently  he  v,-i\\  be  glad 
enough  to  return  to  them  at  the 
proper  time. 

Not  a  selfish  child  at  all  was 
John,  for  he  meditated  dividing 
the  grapes  with  Alice,  and  they 
would  have  been  so  sweet  and  cool- 
ing while  the  children  stood  there 
listening  to  the  story. 

4.  Here  the  children  fell  a-crying  and  asked  if  their  little  mourn- 
ing which  tliey  had  on  was  not  fur  Uncle  John,  and  tliey  looked  vp  and 
prayed  me  not  to  go  on  about  their  uncle,  but  to  tell  them  some  stories 
about  their  pretty  dead  mother. 

How  tender-hearted  they  both  are,  and  yet  until  now  they  had  hardly 
realized  that  it  was  for  Uncle  John  that  they  were  wearing  their  fresh 
mourning.  This  was  a  new  grief  too  sad  to  them,  but  it  turned  their 
gentle  sympathies  to  their  pretty  dead  mother,  of  whom  they  were  alwaj's 
glad  to  hear.  The  father  has  scarcely  begun  to  speak  when  he  sees 
in  Alice  so  much  resemblance  to  his  dead  wife  that  he  almost  thinks 


2.  Here  little  Alice  spread  her 
hands. 

Don't  you  think  she  knew  her 
Psaltery  by  heart,  and  a  great  part 
of  the  Testament  besides.'  "Of 
course  it  is  very  wonderful  that 
grandma  knew  so  much — but 
then,  I  know  it  too." 


3.  Here  Alice's  Utile  right  foot 
played  mi  involuntary  movement, 
till,  upon  my  looking  grave,  it 
desisted. 

The  mere  suggestion  of  a  dance 
sets  the  little  foot  in  motion, 
and  you  and  I  know  that  Alice  is 
a  lively  girl  who  would  be  as 
proud  of  being  the  best  dancer 
in  the  country  as  she  was  of 
knowing  as  much  Scripture  as 
her  grandmother  knew.  But  how 
quickly  she  stops  when  her  father 
looks  grave!  We  do  not  think 
that  he  objects  to  Alice  dancing, 
but  he  knows  that  he  is  going 
to  tell  her  the  sad  part  of  the  story, 
and  that  the  dancing  accom- 
paniment of  AUce's  little  right 
foot  would  be  very  much  out  of 
place. 

Later,  Alice  joined  with  John 
in  wishing  for  the  grapes,  but  she 
was  equally  willing  to  give  them 
up  when  it  seemed  childish  to 
take  them. 


Dream  Children:   A  Revery         281 

it  is  the  mothei"  who  stands  beside  him.  So  \'iolent  is  his  emotion  that  he 
gradually  comes  out  of  his  reverie,  and  as  he  does  so  the  children  fade 
away  and  recede  into  the  distance,  saying,  "We  are  nothing;  less  than 
7iothing,  and  dreams." 

Is  it  not  a  wonderful  thin<^  that  with  so  few  words  a  wTiter  can  put 
his  heart  so  much  into  yours  that  you  believe  almost  as  much  as  he  does 
in  the  reality  of  the  vision  ? 

In  the  sketch  of  Lamb  we  said  that  his  char- 
acter was  very  strongly  reflected  in  his  writings, 
and  this  essay  shows  the  fact  wonderfully  well. 
Imagine  the  man,  lonely,  heartbroken,  weary 
from  the  awful  task  he  had  set  himself,  sitting 
in  his  bachelor  armchair  by  the  fire,  dreaming 
his  evening  away.  Who  are  the  people  that 
come  to  him  in  his  dreams  and  what  are  the 
incidents  ?  First  his  grandmother  Field,  with 
whom  he  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  his  childhood; 
then  his  sweetheart  Alice,  now  married  to 
another,  with  children  of  her  own;  then  his 
brother,  by  no  means  a  pleasing  character,  but 
a  lazy  and  selfish  man  who,  however,  in  the  rich, 
loving  heart  of  his  brother  stands  out  as  hand- 
some, affectionate,  noble  and  brave.  How  keenly 
he  feels  the  bitter  loss  which  comes  to  him  with 
tenfold  severity  when  he  aAvakens,  and  which 
he  makes  the  closing  thought  in  the  essay! 
Lastly,  the  faithful  Mary,  unchanged,  appears 
at  his  side, — his  waking  companion,  his  greatest 
burden  and  his  greatest  joy. 

Besides  these  evidences  of  his  devotcid  and 
affectionate  disposition,  we  find  proof  of  his  vivid 
imagination  when  as  a  child  he  gazes  upon  the 
old  busts  of  the  twelve  Coesars  that  had  been 
emperors   of  Rome,    till   the   old  marble   heads 


282        Dream  Children:   A  Revert 

would  seem  to  live  again y  or  I  to  be  turned  into 
marble  with  them.  In  his  busy-idle  amusements 
at  the  great  house  he  shows  the  innocence  and 
simphcity  of  his  pleasures,  and  in  the  dehcate 
way  in  Avhich  he  reproves  AHce  and  John,  his 
genial,  sympathetic  disposition  as  w^ell  as  his 
abundant  good  humor.  How  much  finer  it  was 
to  say,  ^'and  such-like  common  baits  of  children'' 
than  to  have  said,  "John,  put  the  grapes  back 
on  the  plate." 


READING  SHAKESPEARE 

|HE  greatest  author  the  world  has 
known  is  WilHam  Shakespeare,  and 
his  writings  will  afford  more  pleasure, 
instruction  and  information  than  those 
of  any  other  author.  They  may  be 
read  again  and  again,  for  so  charged 
are  they  with  living  knowledge  and  so  full  of 
literary  charm,  that  no  one  can  exhaust  them  in 
a  single  reading.  Not  every  reader  of  Shake- 
speare loves  him,  but  that  is  because  not  every 
reader  appreciates  him.  He  wrote  in  the  Eng- 
lish of  his  times,  and  used  many  words  and  ex- 
pressions that  have  since  dropped  out  of  the 
language,  changed  their  meaning,  or  become 
unfamiliar  in  common  speech.  Then  again, 
his  knowledge  of  life  is  so  profound  and  his  in- 
sight into  human  nature  so  keen  and  penetrating, 
that  the  casual  reader  is  liable  not  to  follow  his 
thought.  In  other  Avords,  Shakespeare  must  be 
studied  to  be  appreciated;  but  if  he  is  studied  and 
appreciated,  he  gives  a  pleasure  and  exerts  an 
influence  that  cannot  be  equaled. 

Young  people  are  liable  to  think  that  study  is 
laborious  and  uninteresting,  a  nuisance  and  a 
bore.  Nothing  of  that  sort  is  true  of  the  study 
of  Shakespeare,  because  for  every  effort  there  is 
a  present  reward,  there  is  no  waiting  to  sec  re- 
sults. Of  course  there  are  right  ways  and 
wrong  ways  to  study,  just  as  there  are  right  ways 

283 


284  Reading  Shakespeare 

and  wrong  ways  of  doing  anything.  Sometimes 
teachers  fail  entirely  to  interest  their  classes  in 
Shakespeare,  and  parents  say  they  cannot  make 
their  children  like  Shakespeare.  None  of  this 
is  the  fault  of  the  poet  or  of  the  children;  the 
fault  lies  in  the  methods  used  to  create  an  in- 
terest. If  a  person  begins  properly  and  pro- 
ceeds as  he  should,  there  will  never  be  a  lack  of 
interest.  Teachers  are  not  needed,  and  parents 
may  leave  their  children  to  learn  to  be  happy  in 
reading  by  themselves,  if  the  books  are  prepared 
properly  for  them. 

In  the  first  place,  one  of  the  wonders  of  Shake- 
speare is  the  great  variety  in  his  plays.  In  fact, 
they  cover  the  whole  range  of  human  activities, 
and  introduce  characters  from  almost  every  w  alk 
in  life.  The  stories  they  tell  run  from  the  light 
and  gay  to  those  of  more  somber  hue,  from 
comedy  to  deepest  tragedy.  Wit  and  humor, 
pathos  and  sublimity  may  sometimes  be  found 
in  the  same  play,  and  smiles  and  tears  may  be 
drawn  from  the  same  page,  ^AQiat  play  to  select 
for  a  beginner  becomes  then  a  question  of  some 
moment.  We  have  decided  that  The  Tevipest 
is  one  of  the  best,  for  it  is  not  difficult  to  read,  is 
an  interesting  story,  has  amusing  characters, 
carries  good  food  for  thought  and  leaves  the 
reader  in  a  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

Will  you  then,  our  young  readers,  go  hand  in 
hand  with  us  into  the  reading  of  Shakespeare  ? 
Do  as  we  say  this  one  time,  and  read  as  we  ask 
you  to,  even  if  it  does  take  some  time  from  your 
play.     If,  w^hile  you  are  doing  it,  you  do  not  en- 


Reading  Shakespeare 


285 


joy  yourselves,  or  if  at  the  end  you  do  not  feel 
repaid,  then  take  your  own  course  in  your  read- 
ing thereafter.  It  will  be  a  better  course  for 
having  studied  one  great  play  carefully. 

However,  before  we  begin  the  play,  let  us  read 
the  charming  tale  written  by  Charles  and  Mary 
Lamb.  It  will  give  us  briefly  the  story  of  The 
Tempest,  though  a  wealth  of  incidents  is  omitted. 


THE  TEMPEST 

A  TALE  FROM  SHAKESPEARE  BY  CHARLES  AND 
MARY  LAMB 

[HERE  was  a  certain  island  in  the  sea, 
the  only  inhabitants  of  which  were 
an  old  man,  whose  name  was  Pros- 
pero,  and  his  daughter  Miranda,  a 
very  beautiful  young  lady.  She  came 
to  this  island  so  young,  that  she  had 
no  memory  of  haying  seen  any  other 
human  face  than  her  father's. 

They  liyed  in  a  caye  or  cell,  made  out  of  a 
rock;  it  was  diyided  into  seyeral  apartments,  one 
of  which  Prospero  called  his  study;  there  he  kept 
his  books,  which  chiefly  treated  of  magic,  a  study 
at  that  time  much  afiected  by  all  learned  men: 
and  the  knowledge  of  this  art  he  found  very  use- 
ful to  him;  for  being  thrown  by  a  strange  chance 
upon  this  island,  which  had  been  enchanted  by 
a  Avitcli  called  Sycorax,  who  died  there  a  short 
time  before  his  arrival,  Prospero,  by  virtue  of 
his  art,  released  many  good  spirits  that  Sycorax 
had  imprisoned  in  the  bodies  of  large  trees,  be- 
cause they  had  refused  to  execute  her  wicked 
commands.  These  gentle  spirits  were  ever  after 
obedient  to  the  will  of  Prospero.  Of  these, 
Ariel  was  the  chief. 

The  lively  little  sprite  Ariel  had  nothing  mis- 
chievous in  his  nature,  except  that  he  took  rather 
too  much  pleasure  in  tormenting  an  ugly  mon- 

2S6 


The  Tempest  287 

ster  called  Caliban,  for  he  owed  him  a  grudge 
because  he  was  the  son  of  his  old  enemy  Sycorax. 
This  Caliban,  Prospero  found  in  the  woods,  a 
strange  misshapen  thing,  far  less  human  in  form 
than  an  ape:  he  took  him  home  to  his  cell,  and 
taught  him  to  speak;  and  Prospero  would  have 
been  very  kind  to  him,  but  the  bad  nature  which 
Caliban  inherited  from  his  mother  Sycorax, 
would  not  let  him  learn  anything  good  or  useful : 
therefore  he  was  employed  like  a  slave,  to  fetch 
wood,  and  do  the  most  laborious  offices;  and 
Ariel  had  the  charge  of  compelling  him  to  these 
services. 

Wlien  Caliban  was  lazy  and  neglected  his 
work,  Ariel  (who  was  invisible  to  all  eyes  but 
Prospero's)  would  come  slily  and  pinch  him,  and 
sometimes  tumble  him  down  in  the  mire;  and 
then  Ariel,  in  the  likeness  of  an  ape,  would  make 
mouths  at  him.  Then  swiftly  changing  his 
shape,  in  the  likeness  of  a  hedgehog,  he  would  lie 
tumbling  in  Caliban's  way,  who  feared  the 
hedgehog's  sharp  quills  would  prick  his  bare 
feet.  With  a  variety  of  such  hke  vexatious 
tricks  Ariel  would  often  torment  him,  whenever 
Caliban  neglected  the  work  which  Prospero  com- 
manded him  to  do. 

Having  these  powerful  spirits  obedient  to  his 
will,  Prospero  could  by  their  means  command 
the  winds,  and  the  waves  of  the  sea.  By  his 
orders  they  raised  a  violent  storm,  in  the  midst 
of  which,  and  struggling  with  the  wild  sea-waves 
that  every  moment  threatened  to  swallow  it  up, 
he  showed  his  daughter  a  fine  large  ship,  which 


288  The  Tempest 

he  told  her  was  full  of  living  beings  like  them- 
selves. *'0  my  dear  father,"  said  she,  "if  by 
your  art  you  have  raised  this  dreadful  storm, 
have  pity  on  their  sad  distress.  See!  the  vessel 
will  be  dashed  to  pieces.  Poor  souls!  they  will 
all  perish.  If  I  had  power,  I  would  sink  the  sea 
beneath  the  earth,  rather  than  the  good  ship 
should  be  destroyed,  with  all  the  precious  souls 
within  her." 

"Be  not  so  amazed,  daughter  Miranda,"  said 
Prospero;  "there  is  no  harm  done.  I  have  so 
ordered  it,  that  no  person  in  the  ship  shall  receive 
any  hurt.  What  I  have  done  has  been  in  care 
of  you,  my  dear  child.  You  are  ignorant  who 
you  are,  or  where  you  came  from,  and  you  know 
no  more  of  me,  but  that  I  am  your  father,  and 
live  in  this  poor  cave.  Can  you  remember  a 
time  before  you  came  to  this  cell  ?  I  think  you 
cannot,  for  you  were  not  then  three  years  of  age." 

"Certainly  I  can,  sir,"  replied  Miranda. 

"By  what.^"  asked  Prospero;  "by  any  other 
house  or  person  ?  Tell  me  what  you  can  remem- 
ber, my  child." 

Miranda  said,  "It  seems  to  me  like  the  recol- 
lection of  a  dream.  But  had  I  not  once  four  or 
five  women  who  attended  upon  me  ?  " 

Prospero  answered,  "You  had,  and  more. 
How  is  it  that  this  still  Hves  in  your  mind  ?  Do 
you  remember  how  you  came  here  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Miranda,  "I  remember  noth- 
ing more." 

"Twelve  years  ago,  Miranda,"  continued 
Prospero,  "I  was  duke  of  Milan,  and  you  were 


The  Tempest  289 

a  princess,  and  my  only  heir.  I  had  a  younger 
brother,  whose  name  was  Antonio,  to  whom  I 
trusted  everything;  and  as  I  was  fond  of  retire- 
ment and  deep  study,  I  commonly  left  the  man- 
agement of  my  state  affairs  to  your  uncle,  my 
false  brother  (for  so  indeed  he  proved).  I, 
neglecting  all  worldly  ends,  buried  among  my 
books,  did  dedicate  my  whole  time  to  the  better- 
ing of  my  mind.  ]\Iy  brother  Antonio  being 
thus  in  possession  of  my  power,  began  to  think 
himself  the  duke  indeed.  The  opportunity  I 
gave  him  of  making  himself  popular  among  my 
subjects  awakened  in  his  bad  nature  a  proud 
ambition  to  deprive  me  of  my  dukedom:  this  he 
soon  effected  with  the  aid  of  the  king  of  Naples, 
a  powerful  prince,  who  was  my  enemy." 

*' Wherefore,"  said  Miranda,  "did  they  not 
that  hour  destroy  us  ? " 

"My  child,"  answered  her  father,  "they  durst 
not,  so  dear  was  the  love  that  my  people  bore 
me.  Antonio  carried  us  on  board  a  ship,  and 
when  we  were  some  leagues  out  at  sea,  he  forced 
us  into  a  small  boat,  without  either  tackle,  sail, 
or  mast:  there  he  left  us,  as  he  thought,  to  perish. 
But  a  kind  lord  of  my  court,  one  Gonzalo,  who 
loved  me,  had  privately  placed  in  the  boat,  water, 
provisions,  apparel,  and  some  books  which  I 
prize  above  my  dukedom." 

"O  my  father,"  said  Miranda,  "  what  a  trouble 
must  I  have  been  to  you  then ! " 

"No,  my  love,"  said  Prospero,  "you  were  a 
little  cherub  that  did  preserve  me.  Your  inno- 
cent smiles  made  me  to  bear  up  against  my  mis- 


290  Xhe  Tempest 

fortunes.  Our  food  lasted  till  we  landed  on 
this  desert  island,  smce  when  my  chief  delight 
has  been  in  teaching  you,  Miranda,  and  well 
have  you  profited  by  my  instructions." 

"Heaven  tianl?  you,  my  dear  father,"  said 
Miranda.  '*.Now  pray  tell  me,  sir,  your  reason 
for  raising  this  sea»storm  ?  " 

" Know  then/'  said  her  father,  "that  by  means 
of  this  storm,  loay  enemies,  the  king  of  Naples, 
and  my  cruel  brother,  are  cast  ashore  upon  this 
is^ando'' 

Having  so  said,  Prospero  gently  touched  his 
daughter  with  his  magic  wand,  and  she  fell  fast 
asleep;  for  the  spirit  Ariel  just  then  presented 
himselt  before  his  master,  to  give  an  account  of 
the  tempest,  and  how  he  had  disposed  of  the 
ship's  company,  and  though  the  spirits  were 
always  invisible  to  Miranda,  Prospero  did  not 
choose  she  should  hear  him  holding  converse 
(as  would  seem  to  her)  with  the  empty  air. 

"Well,  my  brave  spirit,"  said  Prospero  to 
Ariel,  "how  have  you  performed  your  task.^" 

Ariel  gave  a  lively  description  of  the  storm, 
and  of  the  terrors  of  the  mariners;  and  how  the 
king's  son,  Ferdinand,  was  the  first  who  leaped 
into  the  sea;  and  his  father  thought  he  saw  his 
dear  son  swallowed  up  by  the  waves  and  lost. 
"But  he  is  safe,"  said  Ariel,  "in  a  corner  of  the 
isle,  sitting  with  his  arms  folded,  sadly  lamenting 
the  loss  of  the  king,  his  father,  whom  he  concludes 
drowned..  Not  a  hair  of  his  head  is  injured,  and 
his  princely  garments,  though  drenched  in  the 
sea-waves,  look  fresher  than  before." 


The  Tempest  291 

"That's  my  delicate  Ariel/'  said  Prospero. 
"Bring  him  hither:  my  daughter  must  see  this 
young  prince.  Where  is  the  king,  and  my 
brother?" 

"I  left  them,"  answered  Ariel,  "searching  for 
Ferdinand,  whom  they  have  little  hopes  of  find- 
ing, thinking  they  saw  him  perish.  Of  the  ship's 
crew  not  one  is  missing;  though  each  one  thinks 
himself  the  only  one  saved:  and  the  ship,  though 
invisible  to  them,  is  safe  in  the  harbor." 

"Ariel,"  said  Prospero,  '*thy  charge  is  faith- 
fully performed;  but  there  is  more  work  yet." 

"Is  there  more  work.^"  said  Ariel.  "Let  me 
remind  you,  master,  you  have  promised  me  my 
liberty.  I  pray,  remember,  I  have  done  you 
worthy  service,  told  you  no  lies,  made  no  mis- 
takes, served  you  without  grudge  or  grumbling." 

"How  now!"  said  Prospero.  "You  do  not 
recollect  what  a  torment  I  freed  you  from. 
Have  you  forgot  the  wicked  witch  Sycorax,  who 
with  age  and  envy  was  almost  bent  double? 
Where  was  she  born?     Speak;  tell  me." 

"Sir,  in  Algiers,"  said  Ariel. 

"O  was  she  so?"  said  Prospero.  "I  must 
recount  what  you  have  been,  which  I  find  you 
do  not  remember.  This  bad  witch,  Sycorax, 
for  her  witch-crafts,  too  terrible  to  enter  human 
hearing,  was  banished  from  Algiers,  and  here 
left  by  the  sailors;  and  because  you  were  a  spirit 
too  delicate  to  execute  her  wicked  commands, 
she  shut  you  up  in  a  tree,  where  I  found  you 
howling.  This  torment,  remember,  I  did  free 
you  from." 


^292  The  Tempest 

"Pardon  me,  dear  master,"  said  Ariel, 
ashamed  to  seem  ungrateful;  "I  will  obey  your 
commands." 

"Do  so,"  said  Prospero,  "and  I  will  set  you 
free."  He  then  gave  orders  what  further  he 
would  have  him  do;  and  away  went  Ariel,  first 
to  where  he  had  left  Ferdinand,  and  found  him 
still  sitting  on  the  grass  in  the  same  melancholy 
posture. 

"O  my  young  gentleman,"  said  Ariel,  when 
he  saw  him,  "I  will  soon  move  you.  You  must 
be  brought,  I  find,  for  the  Lady  Miranda  to  have 
a  sight  of  your  pretty  person.  Come,  sir,  follow 
me."     He  then  began  singing, 

"Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies: 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made ; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes: 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade. 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  somethino;  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell: 
Hark!  now  I  hear  them, — Ding-dong,  bell." 

This  strange  news  of  his  lost  father  soon 
roused  the  prince  from  the  stupid  fit  into  which 
he  had  fallen.  He  followed  in  amazement  the 
sound  of  Ariel's  voice,  till  it  led  him  to  Prospero 
and  Miranda,  who  were  sitting  under  the  shade 
of  a  large  tree.  Now  INIiranda  had  never  seen 
a  man  before,  except  her  own  father. 

"Miranda,"  said  Prospero,  "tell  me  w'hat  you 
are  looking  at  yonder." 


The  Tempest  293 

"O  father,"  said  Miranda,  in  a  strange  sur- 
prise, "surely  that  is  a  spirit.  Lord!  how  it 
looks  about!  Believe  me,  sir,  it  is  a  beautiful 
creature.     Is  it  not  a  spirit  ?  " 

"No,  girl,"  answered  her  father:  "it  eats,  and 
sleeps,  and  has  senses  such  as  we  have.  This 
young  man  you  see  was  in  the  ship.  He  is  some- 
what altered  by  grief,  or  you  might  call  him  a 
handsome  person.  He  has  lost  his  companions, 
and  is  wandering  about  to  find  them." 

Miranda,  who  thought  all  men  had  grave 
faces  and  gray  beards  like  her  father,  was  de- 
lighted with  the  appearance  of  this  beautiful 
young  prince;  and  Ferdinand,  seeing  such  a 
lovely  maiden  in  this  desert  place,  and  from  the 
strange  sounds  he  had  heard,  expecting  nothing 
but  wonders,  thought  he  was  upon  an  enchanted 
island,  and  that  Miranda  was  the  goddess  of  the 
place,  and  as  such  he  began  to  address  her. 

She  timidly  answered,  she  was  no  goddess, 
but  a  simple  maid,  and  was  going  to  give  him  an 
account  of  herself,  when  Prospero  interrupted 
her.  He  was  well  pleased  to  find  they  admired 
each  other,  for  he  plainly  perceived  they  had 
(as  we  say)  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight:  but  to  try 
Ferdinand's  constancy,  he  resolved  to  throw 
some  difficulties  in  their  way:  therefore  advanc- 
ing forward,  he  addressed  the  prince  with  a  stern 
air,  telling  him,  he  came  to  the  island  as  a  spy, 
to  take  it  from  him  who  was  the  lord  of  it. 
"Follow  me,"  said  he,  "I  will  tie  you  neck  and 
feet  together.  You  shall  drink  sea-water;  shell- 
fish, withered  roots,  and  husks  of  acorns  shall 

Vol.  IX.-20. 


294  The  Tempest 

be  your  food."  "Xo,"  said  Ferdinand,  "I  will 
resist  such  entertainment,  till  I  see  a  more  power- 
ful enemy,"  and  drew  his  sword;  but  Prospero, 
waving  his  magic  wand,  fixed  him  to  the  spot 
where  he  stood  so  that  he  had  no  power  to  move. 

Miranda  hung  upon  her  father,  saying,  *'Why 
are  you  so  ungentle.^  Have  pity,  sir;  I  will  be 
his  surety.  This  is  the  second  man  I  ever  saw, 
and  to  me  he  seems  a  true  one." 

"Silence,"  said  the  father;  "one  word  more 
will  make  me  chide  you,  girl!  What!  an  advo- 
cate for  an  impostor!  You  think  there  are  no 
more  such  fine  men,  having  seen  only  him  and 
Caliban.  I  tell  you,  foolish  girl,  most  men  as 
far  excel  this,  as  he  does  Caliban."  This  he 
said  to  prove  his  daughter's  constancy;  and  she 
replied,  "My  affections  are  most  humble.  I 
have  no  wish  to  see  a  goodlier  man." 

"Come  on,  young  man,"  said  Prospero  to  the 
prince;  "you  have  no  power  to  disobey  me." 

"I  have  not  indeed,"  answered  Ferdinand; 
and  not  knowing  that  it  was  by  magic  he  was 
deprived  of  all  power  of  resistance,  he  was  as- 
tonished to  find  himself  so  strangely  compelled 
to  follow  Prospero:  looking  back  on  Miranda  as 
long  as  he  could  see  her,  he  said,  as  he  went  after 
Prospero  into  the  cave,  "My  spirits  are  all 
bound  up,  as  if  I  were  in  a  dream;  but  this  man's 
threats,  and  the  weakness  which  I  feel,  would 
seem  light  to  me  if  from  my  prison  I  might  once 
a  day  behold  this  fair  maid." 

-Prospero  kept  Ferdinand  not  long  confined 
within  the  cell :  he  soon  brought  out  his  prisonei; 


The  Tempest  295 

and  set  him  a  severe  task  to  perform,  taking  care 
to  let  his  daughter  know  the  hard  labor  he  had 
imposed  on  him,  and  then  pretending  to  go 
into  his  study,  he  secretly  watched  them  both. 

Prospero  had  commanded  Ferdinand  to  pile 
up  some  heavy  logs  of  wood.  Kings'  sons  not 
being  much  used  to  laborious  work,  Miranda 
soon  after  found  her  lover  almost  dying  Avith 
fatigue.  "Alas!"  said  she,  "do  not  Avork  so 
hard;  my  father  is  at  his  studies,  he  is  safe  for 
these  three  hours;  pray  rest  yourself." 

"O  my  dear  lady,"  said  Ferdinand,  "I  dare 
not.  I  must  finish  my  task  before  I  take  my 
rest." 

"If  you  vdW  sit  down,"  said  Miranda,  "I  will 
carry  your  logs  the  while."  But  this  Ferdinand 
would  by  no  means  agree  to.  Instead  of  a  help 
Miranda  became  a  hindrance,  for  they  began  a 
long  conversation,  so  that  the  business  of  log- 
carrying  went  on  very  slowly. 

Prospero,  who  had  enjoined  Ferdinand  this 
task  merely  as  a  trial  of  his  love,  was  not  at  his 
books,  as  his  daughter  supposed,  but  was  stand- 
ing by  them  invisible,  to  overhear  what  they 
said. 

Ferdinand  inquired  her  name,  which  she  told, 
saying  it  was  against  her  father's  express  com- 
mand she  did  so. 

Prospero  only  smiled  at  this  first  instance  of 
his  daughter's  disobedience,  for  having  by  his 
magic  art  caused  his  daughter  to  fall  in  love  so 
suddenly,  he  was  not  angry  that  she  showed  her 
love  by  forgetting  to  obey  his  commands.     And 


206  The  Tempest 

he  listened  well  pleased  to  a  long  speech  of 
Ferdinand's,  in  which  he  professed  to  love  her 
above  all  the  ladies  he  ever  saw. 

In  answer  to  his  praises  of  her  beauty,  which 
he  said  exceeded  all  the  women  in  the  world,  she 
replied,  "I  do  not  remember  the  face  of  any 
woman,  nor  have  I  seen  any  more  men  than  you, 
my  good  friend,  and  my  dear  father.  How 
features  are  abroad,  I  know  not;  but,  believe 
me,  sir,  I  w^ould  not  wish  any  companion  in  the 
w  orld  but  you,  nor  can  my  imagination  form  any 
shape  but  yours  that  I  could  like.  But,  sir,  I 
fear  I  talk  to  you  too  freely,  and  my  father's  pre- 
cepts I  forget." 

At  this  Prospero  smiled,  and  nodded  his  head, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "This  goes  on  exactly  as  I 
could  wish;  my  girl  wdll  be  queen  of  Naples." 

And  then  Ferdinand,  in  another  fine  long 
speech  (for  young  princes  speak  in  courtly 
phrases),  told  the  innocent  Miranda  he  was  heir 
to  the  crown  of  Naples,  and  that  she  should  be 
his  queen. 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  she,  "I  am  a  fool  to  weep  at 
what  I  am  glad  of.  I  will  answer  you  in  plain 
and  holy  innocence.  I  am  your  wife  if  you  will 
marry  me." 

Prospero  prevented  Ferdinand's  thanks  by 
appearing  visible  before  them. 

"Fear  nothing,  my  child,"  said  he;  "I  have 
overheard  and  approve  of  all  you  have  said. 
And,  Ferdinand,  if  I  have  too  severely  used  you, 
I  wdll  make  you  rich  amends,  by  giving  you  my 
daughter.     AH  your  vexations   were  but  trials 


The  Tempest  297 

of  your  love,  and  you  have  nobly  stood  the  test. 
Then  as  my  gift,  which  your  true  love  has 
worthily  purchased,  take  my  daughter,  and  do 
not  smile  that  I  boast  she  is  above  all  praise.'* 
He  then,  telling  them  that  he  had  business  which 
required  his  presence,  desired  they  would  sit 
down  and  talk  together  till  he  returned ;  and  this 
command  Miranda  seemed  not  at  all  disposed 
to  disobey. 

When  Prospero  left  them,  he  called  his  spirit 
Ariel,  who  quickly  appeared  before  him,  eager 
to  relate  what  he  had  done  with  Prospero's 
brother  and  the  king  of  Naples.  Ariel  said  he 
had  left  them  almost  out  of  their  senses  with 
fear,  at  the  strange  things  he  had  caused  them 
to  see  and  hear.  When  fatigued  with  wandering 
about,  and  famished  for  want  of  food,  he  had 
suddenly  set  before  them  a  delicious  banquet, 
and  then,  just  as  they  were  going  to  eat,  he  ap- 
peared visible  before  them  in  the  shape  of  a 
harpy,  a  voracious  monster  with  wings,  and  the 
feast  vanished  away.  Then,  to  their  utter 
amazement,  this  seeming  harpy  spoke  to  them, 
reminding  them  of  their  cruelty  in  driving  Pros- 
pero from  his  dukedom,  and  leaving  him  and 
his  infant  daughter  to  perish  in  the  sea;  saying, 
that  for  this  cause  these  terrors  were  suffered  to 
afflict  them. 

The  king  of  Naples,  and  Antonio  the  false 
brother,  repented  the  injustice  they  had  done  to 
Prospero;  and  Ariel  told  his  master  he  was  cer- 
tain their  penitence  was  sincere,  and  that  he, 
though  a  spirit,  could  not  but  pity  them. 


298  The  Tempest 

*'Then  bring  them  hither,  Ariel,"  said  Pros- 
pero:  *'if  you,  who  are  but  a  spirit,  feel  for  their 
distress,  shall  not  I,  who  am  a  human  being 
like  themselves,  have  compassion  on  them? 
Bring  them  quickly,  my  dainty  Ariel.'* 

Ariel  soon  returned  with  the  king,  Antonio, 
and  old  Gonzalo  in  their  train,  who  had  followed 
him  wondering  at  the  wild  music  he  played  in 
the  air  to  draw  them  on  to  his  master's  presence. 
This  Gonzalo  was  the  same  who  had  so  kindly 
provided  Prospero  formerly  with  books  and 
provisions,  when  his  wicked  brother  left  him, 
as  he  thought,  to  perish  in  an  open  boat  in  the 
sea. 

Grief  and  ten-or  had  so  stupefied  their  senses, 
that  they  did  not  know  Prospero.  He  first  dis- 
covered himself  to  the  good  old  Gonzalo,  calling 
him  the  preserver  of  his  life;  and  then  his  brother 
and  the  king  knew  that  he  was  the  injured  Pros- 
pero. 

Antonio  with  tears,  and  sad  words  of  sorrow 
and  true  repentance,  implored  his  brother's 
forgiveness,  and  the  king  expressed  his  sincere 
remorse  for  having  assisted  Antonio  to  depose 
his  brother:  and  Prospero  forgave  them;  and, 
upon  their  engaging  to  restore  his  dukedom,  he 
said  to  the  king  of  Naples,  *'I  have  a  gift  in  store 
for  you  too;"  and  opening  a  door,  showed  him 
his  son  Ferdinand  playing  at  chess  with  Miranda. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  joy  of  the  father  and 
the  son  at  this  unexpected  meeting,  for  they  each 
thought  the  other  drowned  in  the  storm. 

"O   wonder!"    said    Miranda,    '*what   noble 


The  Tempest  ^299 

creatures  these  are  I  It  must  sui'ely  be  a  brave 
world  that  has  such  people  in  it." 

The  king  of  Naples  was  almost  as  much  as- 
tonished at  the  beauty  and  excellent  graces  of 
the  young  Miranda,  as  his  son  had  been.  "WTio 
is  this  maid.^"  said  he;  "she  seems  the  goddess 
that  has  parted  us,  and  brought  us  thus  to- 
gether." "No,  sir,"  answered  Ferdinand,  smil- 
ing to  find  his  father  had  fallen  into  the  same 
mistake  that  he  had  done  when  he  first  saw 
Miranda,  "she  is  a  mortal,  but  by  immortal 
Providence  she  is  mine ;  I  chose  her  when  I  could 
not  ask  you,  my  father,  for  your  consent,  not 
thinking  you  were  alive.  She  is  the  daughter  to 
this  Prospero,  who  is  the  famous  duke  of  Milan, 
of  whose  renown  I  have  heard  so  much,  but 
never  saw  him  till  now:  of  him  I  have  received  a 
new  life:  he  has  made  himself  to  me  a  second 
father,  giving  me  this  dear  lady." 

"Then  I  must  be  her  father,"  said  the  Idng; 
"but  oh!  how  oddly  will  it  sound,  that  I  must 
ask  my  child  forgiveness." 

"No  more  of  that,"  said  Prospero:  "let  us  not 
remember  our  troubles  past,  since  they  so  happily 
have  ended."  And  then  Prospero  embraced 
his  brother,  and  again  assured  him  of  his  for- 
giveness; and  said  that  a  wise  overruling  Provi- 
dence had  permitted  that  he  should  be  driven 
from  his  poor  dukedom  of  Milan,  that  his 
daughter  might  inherit  the  crown  of  Naples,  for 
that  by  their  meeting  in  this  desert  island,  it  had 
happened  that  the  king's  son  had  loved  Miranda. 

These    kind    words    which    Prospero    spoke. 


300  The  Tempest 

meaning  to  comfort  his  brother,  so  filled  Antonio 
with  shame  and  remorse,  that  he  wept  and  was 
unable  to  speak;  and  the  kind  old  Gonzalo  wept 
to  see  this  joyful  reconciliation,  and  prayed  for 
blessings  on  the  young  couple. 

Prospero  now  told  them  that  their  ship  was 
safe  in  the  harbor,  and  the  sailors  all  on  board 
her,  and  that  he  and  his  daughter  would  accom- 
pany them  home  the  next  morning.  "In  the 
meantime,"  says  he,  "partake  of  such  refresh- 
ments as  my  poor  cave  affords;  and  for  your 
evening's  entertainment  I  will  relate  the  history 
of  my  life  from  my  first  landing  in  this  desert 
island."  He  then  called  for  Cahban  to  prepare 
some  food,  and  set  the  cave  in  order;  and  the 
company  were  astonished  at  the  uncouth  form 
and  savage  appearance  of  this  ugly  monster,  who 
(Prospero  said)  was  the  only  attendant  he  had 
to  wait  upon  him. 

Before  Prospero  left  the  island,  he  dismissed 
Ariel  from  his  service,  to  the  great  joy  of  that 
lively  little  spirit;  who,  though  he  had  been  a 
faithful  servant  to  his  master,  was  always  longing 
to  enjoy  his  free  hberty,  to  wander  uncontrolled 
in  the  air,  like  a  wild  bird,  under  green  trees, 
among  pleasant  fruits,  and  sweet-smelUng  flow- 
ers. "My  quaint  Ariel,"  said  Prospero  to  the 
little  sprite  when  he  made  him  free,  "I  shall  miss 
you;  yet  you  shall  have  your  freedom."  "Thank 
you,  my  dear  master,"  said  Ariel;  "but  give  me 
leave  to  attend  your  ship  home  with  prosperous 
gales,  before  you  bid  farewell  to  the  assistance  of 
your  faithful  spirit;  and  then,  master,  when  I  am 


The  Tempest 

free,  ho^v  merrily  I  shall  live ! " 
this  pretty  song : 


301 


Here  Ariel  sung 


""VMiere  the  bee  sucks  there  suck  I; 
In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie: 
There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry. 
On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 
After  summer  merrily. 
Merrily,  merrily  shall  I  live  now 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough." 

Prospero  then  buried  deep  in  the  earth  his 
magical  books  and  wand,  for  he  was  resolved 
never  more  to  make  use  of  the  magic  art.  And 
having  thus  overcome  his  enemies,  and  being 
reconciled  to  his  brother  and  the  king  of  Naples, 
nothing  now  remained  to  complete  his  happiness, 
but  to  revisit  his  native  land,  to  take  possession 
of  his  dukedom,  and  to  witness  the  happy  nup- 
tials of  his  daughter  and  Prince  Ferdinand, 
which  the  king  said  should  be  instantly  cele- 
brated with  great  splendor  on  their  return  to 
Naples.  At  which  place,  under  the  safe  convoy 
of  the  spirit  Ariel,  they,  after  a  pleasant  voyage, 
soon  arrived. 


THE  TEMPEST 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 
INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 

jAVING  read  Lamb's  version  of  the 
tIh  story,  we  are  ready  for  the  play  as 
■^  Shakespeare  wrote  it.  To  begin 
with,  we  will  read  it  through  from 
beofinnino;  to  end  with  as  little  hesita- 
tion  and  delay  as  possible.  We  will  not  expect 
to  understand  it  all,  and  will  pass  over  the 
more  difficult  passages  without  attempting  to 
master  them.  If  at  times  we  are  unable  to  go 
on  intelligently,  we  will  look  at  the  notes  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pages  and  get  the  help  we  need. 
This  reading,  however,  is  intended  merely  to 
give  us  a  general  idea  of  the  play.  We  are  spy- 
ing out  the  land  as  a  general  might  do  it,  trjdng  to 
see  what  Idnd  of  a  country  we  are  invading,  and 
to  locate  the  places  where  we  are  liable  to  meet 
with  resistance.  We  will  stop  a  moment  now 
and  then  to  shudder  at  CaUban,  to  admire  Pros- 
pero,  to  love  the  sweet  Miranda  or  to  laugh  at 
the  nonsense  of  the  jester  and  the  drunken  butler, 
but  we  will  hasten  on  to  the  end  nevertheless, 
knowing  that  we  will  become  better  acquainted 
with  the  people  at  another  time. 

Ha\ang  finished  the  play,  we  will  return  to  the 
beginning  for  a  second,  a  slower,  more  careful 
reading.     Xow  many  things  that  at  first  seemed 

302 


The  Tempest  303 

obscure  will  have  cleared  themselves  by  our 
greater  knowledge  of  the  play.  This  time,  how- 
ever, we  must  read  every  sentence  carefully  and 
try  to  understand  the  meaning  of  all.  The  foot- 
notes should  all  be  read,  because  it  often  happens 
that  when  we  think  we  understand  what  a  sen- 
tence signifies,  we  give  the  wrong  meaning  to  a 
word  or  phrase,  and  hence  change  the  whole 
sense. 

However,  there  are  in  this  play  some  few 
passages  that  no  one  has  ever  explained  in  a 
perfectly  satisfactory  manner,  but  they  are  so 
few,  and  placed  in  such  a  position,  that  our  in- 
ability to  understand  them  perfectly  does  not 
interfere  with  our  enjoyment  of  the  play.  The 
notes  call  attention  to  these  passages  and  offer 
a  plausible  explanation,  but  do  not  attempt  to 
discuss  the  possible  meanings  thoroughly. 

When  this  second  reading  has  been  completed, 
we  will  have  a  good  understanding  of  the  play, 
a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  char- 
acters, and  be  ready  for  the  more  interesting 
studies  which  follow  the  play. 


THE  PERSONS 


Alonso,  King  of  Naples. 
Sebasti.vn,  his  Brother. 
Prospero,   the  rightful  Duke  of 

Milan. 
AxTO.Nio,  his  Brother,  the  usurping 

Duke  of  Milan. 
P'erdix.vxd,  Son  to  the  King  of 

Naples. 
Goxz.\LO,  an  honest  old  Counsellor 

of  Naples. 

^°«'-^-^-'  [Lords. 

TRAXCISCO,         ) 

Calibax,  a  savage  and  deformed 
Slave. 


Trinculo,  a  Jester. 
Stephano,  a  drunken  Butler. 
Master  of  a  Ship,  Boatswain,  and 
Mariners. 

]\IiRANDA,  Daughter  to  Prospero. 

Ariel,  an  airy  Spirit. 
Other  Spirits  attending  on  Pros- 
pero. 
Iris, 
Ceres. 

Jcxo,        )  presented  by  Spirits. 
Nymphs, 
Reapers, 


Scene,  a  Ship  at  Sea;  afterwards  an  uninhabited  Island. 


ACT  I 


Scene  1. — On  a  Ship  at  sea.     A  Storm,  icith 
Thunder  and  Lightning. 

Enter  Master  and  Boatswain  severally. 

OATSWAIN! 

Boats.  Here,  master:  what 
cheer  ? 

Mast.  Good,^  speak  to  the  mar- 
iners: fall  to't  yarely,^  or  we  run 
ourselves  a-ground:    bestir,  bestir. 

[Exit. 
Enter  Mariners. 

Boats.  Heigh,  my  hearts!  cheerly,  cheerly,  my 
hearts!  yare,  yare!  Take  in  the  topsail.  Tend 
to  the  master's  whistle.  [Exeunt  Mariners.] — 
Blow  till  thou  burst  thy  wind,^  if  room  enough!^ 

Enter   Alonso,    Sebastian,    Antonio,   Ferdi- 
nand, GoNZALO,  and  O  titers. 

Alon.  Good  boatswain,  have  care.  Where's 
the  master  ?     Play  the  men.^ 

1.  Good  was  often  used  in  Shakespeare's  time  as  we  use  the  word 
well,  to  introduce  a  sentence. 

2.  Fall  to't  yarclij  means  (jcl  to  work  briskly. 

3.  Shakespeare  may  have  had  in  liis  mind  the  pictures  which  represent 
the  wind  as  a  little  old  man  with  cheeks  puHod  out  till  they  were  nearly- 
bursting.  Perhaps,  too,  the  line  should  read,  "Blow  till  thou  burst 
thee,  wind." 

4.  If  there  is  sea-room  enough.  The  boatswain  is  not  alarmed 
if  he  can  have  room  to  handle  his  ship. 

5.  We  still  say  "play  the  man"  when  we  wish  to  encourage  any  one 
to  be  brave  and  manly. 

305 


306  The  Tempest 

BoaU.     I  pray  now,  keep  below. 

Anto.     '\^^lere  is  the  master,  boatswain  ? 

Boats.  Do  you  not  hear  him  ?  You  mar  our 
hibour:  keep  your  cabins;  you  do  assist  the  storm. 

Gonza.     Nay,  good,  be  patient. 

Boats.  WTien  the  sea  is.  Hence!  What  care 
these  roarers  for  the  name  of  king?  To  cabin: 
silence!  trouble  us  not. 

Gonza.  Good,  yet  remember  whom  thou  hast 
aboard. 

Boats.  None  that  I  more  love  than  myself. 
You  are  a  counsellor:  if  you  can  command  these 
elements  to  silence,  and  work  the  peace  of  the 
present,®  we  will  not  hand  a  rope  more;  use  your 
authority:  if  you  cannot,  give  thanks  you  have 
lived  so  long,  and  make  yourself  ready  in  your 
cabin  for  the  mischance  of  the  hour,  if  it  so 
hap.' — Cheerly,  good  hearts! — Out  of  our  way, 
I  say.  [Exit. 

Gonza.  I  have  great  comfort  from  this  fellow : 
methinks  he  hath  no  drowning-mark  upon  him; 
his  complexion^  is  perfect  gallows. — Stand  fast, 
good  Fate,  to  his  hanging!  make  the  rope  of  his 
destiny  our  cable,  for  our  own  doth  little  advan- 
tage! If  he  be  not  born  to  be  hang'd,  our  case 
is  miserable.  [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Boatswain. 

Boats.     Down  with  the  top-mast!  yare;  lower, 

6.  The  word  time  may  be  understood  after  present.  The  boatswain 
infers  that  they  cannot  make  peaceful  weather  of  the  present  storm. 

7.  Hap    means    happen. 

8.  The  word  complexion  here  means  bent  or  inclination..  Gonzalo 
says  the  boatswain  Is  born  to  be  hung;  he  cannot  be  drowned- 


The  Tempest  307 

lower!  Bring  her  to  try  ^^'i'  th'  main-course." 
[A  cry  within.]  A  plague  upon  this  howling! 
they  are  louder  than  the  weather  or  our  office.^" — 

Re-enter  Sebastian,  Antonio,  and  Gonzalo. 

Yet  again!  what  do  you  here?  Shall  we  give 
o'er,  and  drown  ?     Have  you  a  mind  to  sink  ? 

Sebas.  A  pox  o'  your  throat,  you  bawling, 
blasphemous,  inchari table  dog! 

Boats.     Work  you,  then. 

Anto.  Hang,  cur,  hang!  you  insolent  noise- 
maker,  we  are  less  afraid  to  be  drown'd  than 
thou  art. 

Gonza.  I'll  warrant  him  for  drowning,'* 
though  the  ship  were  no  stronger  than  a  nut-shell. 

Boats.  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold!  set  her  two 
courses!*^  off  to  sea  again;   lay  her  off! 

Re-enter  Mariners,  wet 

Mariners.  All  lost!  to  prayers,  to  prayers!  all 
lost!  [Exeunt 

Boats.     What,  must  our  mouths  be  cold  ? 

Gonza.     The  King  and  Prince  at  prayers!  let 
us  assist  them. 
For  our  case  is  as  theirs. 

Sebas.  I'm  out  of  patience. 

9.  The  boatswain  finds  he  has  not  sea-rooin  enough  so  he  calls 
upon  the  sailors  to  take  down  the  topmast  and  to  bring  the  ship  as 
close  into  the  wind  as  possible  and  hold   her  there  with  the  main  sail. 

10.  This  sentence  means  tfwy  are  noisier  than  the  kmjiest  and  the 
Citmmandjt  of  our  officers. 

11.  Gonzalo  still  thinks  the  boatswam  was  born  to  be  hanged,  and 
warrants  that  he  will  not  be  drovsiicd. 

12.  The  Ixtutswain  is  still  trying  to  bring  her  to  the  wind,  so  she  may 
get  out  to  sea-     TTio  courses  are  the  largest  lower  sails. 


308 


The  Tempest 


AiiL  lost!    all  lost! 


Anto.     We're    merely^^    cheated    out    of    our 
lives  by  drunkards. 

13.  Merely,  here,  means  entirely  or  absolutely. 


The  Tempest  309 

This  wide-chopp'd  rascal — would  thou  mightst 

lie  drowning, 
The  washing  of  ten  tides ! 

Gonza.  He'll  be  hang'd  yet. 

Though  every  drop  of  water  swear  against  it, 
And  gape  at  widest  to  glut^^  him. 

{A  confused  noise  within.)  Mercy  on  us! 
We  split,  we  split! — Farewell,  my  wife  and 
children ! — Farewell,  brother! — We  split,  we  split, 
we  split!  [Exit  Boatswain. 

Anto.     Let's  all  sink  wi'  th'  King.  [Exit. 

Sebas.     Let's  take  leave  of  him.  [Exit. 

Go7iza.  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  fur- 
longs of  sea  for  an  acre  of  barren  ground;  ling, 
heath,  broom,  furze,' ^  anything.  The  wills'^ 
above  be  done!  but  I  would  fain  die  a  dry 
death.  [Exit. 

Scene  II. — The  Island:  before  the  Cell  o/ Pros- 

PERO. 

Enter  Prospero  and  Miranda. 

Mira.     If  by  your  art,  my  dearest  father,  you 

have 
Put  the  wild  waters  in  this  roar,  allay  them. 
The  sky,  it  seems,  would  pour  down  stinking 

pitch, 


14.  Glut  means  swallow. 

15.  These  are  all  plants  that  grow  in  England,  and  were  to  Shake- 
speare the  familiar  signs  of  barren  ground. 

16.  The  vnlls  above  be  done  means  tlic  will  of  tlie  Powers  above  be 
done.  Gonzalo  interests  us  from  the  start  liv  his  rather  humorous  view 
of  everything. 

Vol.  IX. -21. 


310  The  Tempest 

But  that  the  sea,  mounting  to  th'  welkin's  eheek,' 
Dashes  the  fire  out.     O,  I  have  suffer'd 
With  those  that  I  saw  suti'er!  a  brave^  vessel, 
^Mio  had  no  doubt  some  noble  creatures  in  her, 
Dash'd  all  to  pieces.     O,  the  cry  did  knock 
Against  my  very  heart !    Poor  souls,  they  perish'd ! 
Had  I  been  any  god  of  power,  I  would 
Have  sunk  the  sea  within  the  earth,  or  e'er^ 
It  should  the  good  ship  so  have  swallow'd,  and 
The  fraughtino:^  souls  within  her. 

Pros.  Be  collected; 

No  more  amazement:^  tell  your  piteous  heart 
There's  no  harm  done. 

Mira.  O,  woe  the  day ! 

Pros.  No  harm. 

I  have  done  nothing  but  in  care  of  thee, — 
Of  thee,  my  dear  one,  thee,  my  daughter, — who 
Art  ignorant  of  what  thou  art,  nought  knowing 
Of  whence  I  am;  nor  that  I  am  more  better^ 
Than  Prospero,  master  of  a  full-poor  cell, 
And  thy  no  greater  father. 

Mira.  More  to  know 

Did  never  meddle'  with  my  thoughts. 

Pros.  'Tis  time 


1.  Welkin  means  sky. 

2.  Brave  means  fine. 

3.  Or  e'er  means  before  or  sooner  than. 

4.  Fraughting  means  freighting.  The  hmnan  souls  were  the  freight 
of  the  ship. 

5.  Amazement  means  anguish  and  deep  distress  rather  than  as- 
tonishment. 

6.  In  the  time  of  Shakespeare  it  was  not  considered  inelegant  English 
to  use  two  forms  of  the  comparative  and  superlative  degrees.  More 
better,  most  best  are  good  examples. 

7.  MeddU  means  mix.  Miranda  says  she  never  thought  of  knowmg 
more  about  herself  or  her  father. 


The  Tempest  311 

I  should  inform  thee  further.     Lend  thy  hand, 
And  pluck  my  magic  garment  from  me. — So: 

[Lays  down  his  robe. 
Lie  there,  my  art.^ — Wipe  thou  thine  eyes;  have 

comfort. 
The  direful  spectacle  of  the  wreck,  which  touch'd 
The  very  virtue  of  compassion  in  thee, 
I  have  with  such  prevision  in  mine  art 
So  safely  order'd,  that  there  is  no  soul^— 
No,  not  so  much  perdition  as  an  hair 
Betid  to  any  creature  in  the  vessel 
Wliich  thou  heard 'st  cry,  which  thou  saw'st  sink. 

Sit  down; 
For  thou  must  now  know  further. 

Mini.  You  have  often 

Begun  to  tell  me  what  I  am;  but  stopp'd. 
And  left  me  to  a  bootless  inquisition,^" 
Concluding,  Stay,  not  yet. 

Pros.  The  hour's  now  come; 

The  very  minute  bids  thee  ope  thine  ear: 
Obey,  and  be  attentive.     Canst  thou  remember 
A  time  before  we  came  unto  this  cell  ? 
I  do  not  think  thou  canst;  for  then  thou  wast  not 
Out"  three  years  old. 

Mira.  Certainly,  sir,  I  can. 

Pros.     By  what?  by  any  other  house  or  per- 
son ? 


8.  Prospero  means  that  with  his  garment  he  lays  his  magic  arts  aside 
and  becomes  the  loving,  human  father. 

9.  Prospero  does  not  complete  his  sentence,  but  expresses  the  same 
thought  in  tlifFcrent  form. 

10.  Bootless  inquisitiim  means  fruitless  questioning.  The  father  has 
Ijefore  begun  to  tell  Miranda  who  she  is,  but  has  interrupted  bimsell 
and  said,  "Stay,  not  yet." 

11.  Out  means  fully. 


312  The  Tempest 

Of  any  thing  the  image  tell  me  that 
Hath  kept  with  thy  remembrance. 

Mira.  'Tis  far  off, 

And  rather  like  a  dream  than  an  assurance 
That  my  remembrance  warrants.     Had  I  not 
Four  or  five  women  once  that  tended  me  ? 

Pros.     Thou  hadst,  and  more,  Miranda.     But 
how  is  it 
That  this  lives  in  thy  mind  ?     AVhat  see'st  thou 

else 
In  the  dark  backward  and  abysm  of  time  ? 
If  thou  remember'st  aught  ere  thou  camest  here, 
How  thou  camest  here,  thou  mayst.*^ 

Mira.  But  that  I  do  not. 

Pros.     Twelve   year   since,    Miranda,    twelve 
year  since, 
Thy  father  was  the  Duke  of  Milan,  and 
A  prince  of  power. 

Mira.  Sir,  are  you  not  my  father.? 

Pros.     Thy  mother  was  a  piece  of  virtue,  and 
She  said  thou  wast  my  daughter;  and  thy  father 
Was  Duke  of  Milan;  thou  his  only  heir, 
A  princess — no  worse  issued. 

Mira.  O  the  Heavens! 

What  foul   play  had  we,   that  we  came   from 

thence  .'* 
Or  blessed  was't  we  did  ? 

Pros.  Both,  both,  my  girl: 

By  foul  play,  as  thou  say'st,  were  we  heaved 
thence ; 

1-2.  Prospero  says,  in  these  ttvo  lines,  "If  you  can  remember  any- 
thing that  happened  before  we  came  here,  you  may  remember  how  we 
came  here." 


The  Tempest  313 

But  blessedly  holp'^  hither. 

Mira.  O,  my  heart  bleeds 

To  think  o'  the  teen^^  that  I  have  turn'd  you  to, 
Wliich  is  from  my  remembrance!     Please  you, 
further.  ^^ 

Pros.     My  brother,  and  thy  uncle,  call'd  An- 
tonio,— 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me; — that  a  brother  should 
Be  so  perfidious! — he  whom,  next  thyself, 
Of  all  the  world  I  loved,  and  to  him  put 
The  manage^®  of  my  State;  as,  at  that  time. 
Through  all  the  signiories^^  it  was  the  first. 
And   Prospero  the  prime^^  Duke;  being  so  re- 
puted 
In  dignity,  and  for  the  liberal  arts 
Without  a  parallel :  those  being  all  my  study. 
The  government  I  cast  upon  my  brother. 
And  to  my  State  grew  stranger,  being  transportec/ 
And  rapt  in  secret  studies.    Thy  false  uncle, — 
Dost  thou  attend  me  ? 

Mira.  Sir,  most  heedfully. 

Pros. — Being  once  perfected  how  to  grant  suits. 
How  to  deny  them;  who^^  t'  advance,  and  who 
To  trash^°  for  over-topping^* — new-created 

13.  IIolp  is  an  old  iomx  of  helped. 

14.  Teen  is  an  old  word  that  means  IroMe  or  anxiety. 

15.  Please  you,  further,  means.  Please  you,  tell  me  further. 

16.  Manage  means  managemerU. 

17.  Signiories  is  a  name  for  principalities. 

18.  Prime  mo3,ns  first  or  leading. 

19.  Wfio  is  used  for  whom,  as  it  was  not  considered  ungrammatical 
in  Shakespeare's  day. 

20.  Trash  means  cheok  or  set  hack. 

21.  O rer-topping  means  rising  too  high.  Prospero  means  that  liis 
brother  knew  what  persons  to  check  when  they  tried  to  rise  too  high, 
to  gain  too  much  power. 


314  The  Tempest 

The  creatures  that  were  mine,  I  say,  or  changed 

'em. 
Or  else  new-form'd  'em;  having  both  the  key" 
Of  officer  and  office,  set  all  hearts  i'  the  State 
To  what  tune  pleased  his  ear;  that^'  now  he  was 
The  ivv  which  had  hid  my  princely  trunk. 
And  suck'd  the  verdure  out  on't.     Thou  attend'st 
not. 

Mira.     O  good  sir,  I  do. 

Pros.  I  pray  thee,  mark  me. 

I  thus  neglecting  worldly  ends,  all  dedicated 
To  closeness,^*  and  the  bettering  of  my  mind 
With  that  which,  but'^  by  being  so  retired, 
O'er-prized  all  popular  rate,'^  in  my  false  brother 
Awaked  an  evil  nature;  and  my  trust. 
Like  a  good  parent,  did  beget  of  him 
A  falsehood,  in  its  contrary  as  great 
As  my  trust  w^as;  which  had  indeed  no  limit, 
A  confidence  sans^^  bound.  He  being  thus  lorded, 
Not  only  with  what  my  revenue  yielded. 
But  w^hat  my  power  might  else  exact, — like  one 
Who  having  unto  truth,  by  falsing  of  it,^ 
]\Iade  such  a  sinner  of  his  memory 

22.  Toe  brother  understood  the  key  that  kept  officer  and  office  in 
tune,  and  so  set  the  minds  ot"  all  Prospero's  subjects  thinking  as  the 
usurper  wished.  That  is,  Antonio  took  Prospero's  friends  away  from  him. 

23.  We  would  say  so  that  instead  of  merely  that. 

24.  To  closemss  means  to  privacy,  to  studies  in  his  own  home. 

25.  But  in  this  sense  means  except. 

26.  This  is  a  difficult  clause  to  understand.  What  Prospero  means 
is  probably  that  his  studies  would  have  exceeded  all  popular  estimate 
in  value,  but  that  they  (if  they  had  not)  kept  him  so  retired  from  public 
life.  Prospero  sees  the  mistake  he  made,  but  cannot  give  up  the  idea  that 
his  studies  were  valuable. 

27.  San.t  is  a  French  word  that  means  without. 

28.  By  falsing  it  means  by  falsifying  it  or  forging  it. 


The  Tempest  315 

To^  credit  his  own  lie, — he  did  believe 
He  was  indeed  the  Duke;  out  o'  the  substitution,^*^ 
And  executing  the  outward  face  of  royalty. 
With  all  prerogative:  hence  his  ambition  grow- 
ing,— 
Dost  thou  hear  ?^^ 

Mira.        Your  tale,  sir,  would  cure  deafness. 

Pros.     To  have  no  screen  between  this  part 
he  play'd 
And  them  he  play'd  it  for,  he  needs  will  be 
Absolute  Milan. ^^     Me,^^  poor  man,  my  library 
Was  dukedom  large  enough :  of  temporal  royalties 
He  thinks  me  now  incapable;  confederates — 
So  dry  he  was  for  sway^^ — wi'  th'  King  of  Naples 
To  give  him  annual  tribute,  do  him  homage. 
Subject  his  coronet  to  his  crown,  and  bend 
The  dukedom,  yet  unbow  VI, — alas,  poor  Milan  I^^'^ 
To  most  ignoble  stooping.  ^^ 

29.  Shakespeare  omits  the  word  as  before  to.  Antouio  made  so 
great  a  sinner  of  liis  memory  unto  truth  as  to  credit  his  own  He. 

30.  Out  of  the  substitution  may  be  understood  to  mean  because  of 
his  being  my  substitute. 

31.  Prospero's  tale  is  not  clearly  told.  He  is  evidently  thinking  of 
other  thinfjs,  and  his  sentences  are  often  imperfect.  His  mind  wanders 
to  the  thin<(s  he  intends  doinj,',  to  the  storm,  the  stran<i;crs  on  the  island 
and  to  his  plans  for  the  future.  Miranda  is  not  inattentive — she  is  fasci- 
nated by  the  story — but  her  father  attributes  his  own  wandering  thoughts 
to  her. 

32.  Tired  of  ruling  behind  a  screen,  for  that  is  what  Prospero  really 
was,  ^Vntouio  planned  to  remove  his  brother  and  become  absolute  Duke 
of  Milan. 

33.  Shakespeare  omits  the  word  for  before  me. 

34.  So  dry  he  was  for  sway,  might  now  be  Tvritten  as  so  thirsty  he 
was  for  poioer. 

35.  Prospero  bewails  the  fate  of  his  principality,  Milan. 

36.  The  meaning  of  the  last  seven  lines  is  that  Antonio  thought 
Prospero  incapable  of  ruling,  offered  lo  pay  tlie  King  of  Najjles  au 
annual  tribute,  to  do  hiwi  homage  and  to  make  Milan  subjtH?t  to  Naples. 


316  The  Tempest 

Mira.  O  the  Heavens! 

Pros.     This  King  of  Naples,  being  an  enemy 
To  me  inveterate,  hearkens  my  brother's  suit; 
Which  was,  that  he,  in  Ueu^^  o'  the  premises, — 
Of  homage,  and  I  know  not  how  much  tribute, — 
Should  presently^^  extirpate  me  and  mine 
Out  of  the  dukedom,  and  confer  fair  Milan, 
With  all  the  honours,  on  my  brother:  whereon, 
A  treacherous  army  levied,  one  midnight 
Fated  to  th'  practice^^  did  Antonio  open 
The  gates  of  Milan;  and,  i'  the  dead  of  darkness, 
The  ministers  for  th'  purpose  hurried  thence 
Me  and  thy  crying  self.^" 

Mira.  Alack,  for  pity! 

I,  not  remembering  how  I  cried  on't  then, 
Will  cry  it  o'er  again :  it  is  a  hint^^ 
That  wrings  mine  eyes  to't. 

Pros.  Hear  a  little  further. 

And  then  I'll  bring  thee  to  the  present  business 
Which  now's  upon's;^^  without   the  which  this 

story 
Were  most  impertinent.^ 

Mira.  WTierefore  did  they  not 

That  hour  destroy  us  ? 

yy.  In  lieu  now  means  instead  of,  but  Shakespeare  uses  it  in  the  sense 
of  in  return  for, 

38.  Presently  means  immediately. 

39.  Practice  means  plot  or  stratagem. 

40.  The  six  lines  mean  that  one  midnight,  suited  to  such  a  plot, 
a  treacherous  army  having  been  levied,  Antonio  opened  the  gates  of 
Milan,  and  in  the  dead  of  darkness  hurried  away  Prospero  and  the 
crjdng  Aliranda. 

41.  In  this  place  hint  means  theme  or  subject. 

42.  Upon's  is  upon  us. 

43.  Impertinent  in  this  connection  means  out  of  place. 


The  Tempest  317 

Pros.  Well  demanded,  wench  :^* 

My  tale  provokes  that  question.       Dear,  they 

durst  not — 
So  dear  the  love  my  people  bore  me — set 
A  mark  so  bloody  on  the  business;  but 
With  colours  fairer  painted  their  foul  ends. 
In  few,^^  they  hurried  us  aboard  a  bark, 
Bore  us  some  leagues  to  sea;  where  they  prepared 
A  rotten  carcass  of  a  boat,  not  rigg'd. 
Nor  tackle,  sail,  nor  mast;  the  very  rats 
Instinctively  had  quit  it:  there  they  hoist*"  us. 
To  cry  to  th'  sea  that  roar'd  to  us;  to  sigh 
To  th'  winds,  whose  pity,  sighing  back  again, 
Did  us  but  loving  wrong. 

Mira.  Alack,  what  trouble 

Was  I  then  to  you! 

Pros.  O,  a  cherubin 

Thou  wast  that  did  preserve  me!     Thou  didst 

smile. 
Infused  with  a  fortitude  from  Heaven, 
When  I  have  degg'd*^  the  sea  with  drops  full  salt, 
Under  my  burden  groan'd;  which  raised  in  me 
An  undergoing  stomach,*^  to  bear  up 
Against  what  should  ensue. 

Mira.  How  came  we  ashore  ? 

Pros.     By  Providence  divine. 
Some  food  we  had,  and  some  fresh  water,  that 

44.  Wench  means  girl,  and  at  the  time  of  Sba,kespeare  was  a  term 
of  afFection,  like  dear  (jirl. 

45.  In  few  may  be  read  as  in  a  few  words,  that  is,  to  inalce  tfie  story 
brief. 

46.  Hoist  us  means  hoisted  us,  that  is  left  lis. 

47.  Degg'd  means  sprinkled. 

48.  Shakespeare,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days,  often  used  the 
word  stomach  for  courage;  an  undergoing  stomach  is  a  lasting  courage. 


318  The  Tempest 

A  noble  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo, 
Out  of  his  charity, — ^being  then  appointed 
Master  of  this  design, — did  give  us;  with 
Rich  garments,  linens,  stuffs,  and  necessaries, 
\\liich  since  have  steaded ^^  much;  so,  of  his  gen- 
tleness. 
Knowing  I  loved  my  books,  he  furnish'd  me. 
From  mine  own  library,  with  volumes  that 
I  prize  above  my  dukedom. 

Mira.  Would  I  might 

But  ever  see  that  man! 

Pros.  Now  I  arise  :^" 

Sit  still,  and  hear  the  last  of  our  sea-sorrow. 
Here  in  this  island  we  arrived;  and  here 
Have  I,  thy  schoolmaster,  made  thee  more  profit^* 
Than  other  princesses  can,  that  have  more  time 
For  vainer  hours,  and  tutors  not  so  careful. 

Mira.     Heavens  thank  you  for't!    And  now,  I 
pray  you,  sir, — 
For  still  'tis  beating  in  my  mind, — ^your  reason 
For  raising  this  sea-storm  ? 

Pros.  Know  thus  far  forth : 

By  accident  most  strange,  bountiful  Fortune — 
Now  my  dear  lady — hath  mine  enemies 
Brought  to  this  shore;  and  by  my  prescience 
I  find  my  zenith"  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star,  whose  influence 

49.  Steaded  means  aided.  We  might  say,  which  have  since  stood 
us  in  good  stead. 

50.  Readers  of  Shakespeare  dispute  about  the  meaning  of  this 
sentence.  We  might  imagine  Prospero  to  say  half  to  himself  "Now 
/  arise;"  that  is,  "My  turn  has  come," 

51.  Made  ttiee  wore  jtrofit,  that  is,  }uive  made  you  to  profit  more, 
have  taught  you  to  better  advantage, 

52.  The  zenith  Is  the  highest  point. 


The  Tempest  819 

If  now  I  court  not,  but  omit,  my  fortunes 
Will  ever  after  droop.*^^     Here  cease  more  ques- 
tions : 
Thou  art  inclined  to  sleep;  'tis  a  good  dulness. 
And    give    it    way:    I  know    thou    canst    not 
choose.^*  [Miranda  sleeps. 

Come  away,  servant,  come !  I'm  ready  now : 
Approach,  my  Ariel ;  come ! 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ari.     All  hail,  great  master!  grave  sir,  hail!  I 
come 
To  answer  thy  best  pleasure;  be't  to  fly, 
To  swim,  to  dive  into  the  fire,  to  ride 
On  the  curl'd  clouds:  to  thy  strong  bidding  task 
Ariel  and  all  his  quality. ^^ 

Pros.  Hast  thou,  spirit, 

Perform'd  to  point^*^  the  tempest  that  I  bade  thee  ? 

Ari.     To  every  article. 
I  boarded  the  King's  ship;  now  on  the  beak,^^ 
Now  in  the  waist,'^^  the  deck,  in  every  cabin, 
I  flamed  amazement:  sometime  I'd  divide. 
And  burn  in  many  places;  on  the  top-mast. 
The  yards,  and  bowsprit,  would  I  flame  distinctly  ,^'' 

53.  Prospero  means  that  if  he  acts  now  his  fortunes  will  rise  to  tlieir 
highest  point,  but  that  if  he  wails,  he  will  lose  his  opix)rtunity. 

54.  Prospero,  by  his  magic,  throws  his  daughter  into  a  deep  sleep 
so  that  he  may  carry  on  his  i)laiis  without  her  knovvie<lge. 

55.  This  line  may  be  understood  to  read,  Ariel,  and  all  spirits  of 
kis  kind. 

56.  Performed  to  point  means  performed  in  every  respect. 

51.  The  beak  of  a  ship  is  the  prow,  the  projecting  forward  part. 

58.  The  waist  of  a  ship  is  the  mi(]dle  portion. 

59.  Distinctly  means  here  separately.  Ariel  caused  light  glolxjs 
of  flame  to  appear  for  a  second  in  different  parts  of  the  rigging,  and  to 
move  about  and  to  join. 


320 


The  Tempest 


"all  hail,  great  master!" 

Then  meet  and  join.     Jove's  lightnings,  the  pre- 
cursors 
O'  the  dreadful  thunder-claps,  more  momentary®" 

60.  Momentaru  means  instantaneous. 


The  Tempest  321 

And   sight-outrunning   were   not:   the   fire,   and 

cracks 
Of  sulphurous  roaring,  the  most  mighty  Neptune 
Seem'd  to  besiege,  and  make  his  bold  waves 

tremble. 
Yea,  his  dread  trident  shake. 

Pros.  My  brave  spirit! 

Who  was  so  firm,  so  constant,  that  this  coil^^ 
Would  not  infect  his  reason  ? 

Ari.  Not  a  soul 

But  felt  a  fever  of  the  mad,^'  and  play'd 
Some  tricks  of  desperation.     All  but  mariners 
Plunged  in  the  foaming  brine,  and  quit  the  vessel. 
Then  all  a-fire  with  me:  the  King's  son,  Ferdi- 
nand, 
With    hair    up-staring,^^ — then    like    reeds,    not 

hair, — 
Was  the  first  man  that  leap'd;  cried.  Hell  is 

empty, 
And  all  the  devils  are  here. 

Pros.  Why,  that's  my  spirit! 

But  was  not  this  nigh  shore  ? 

Ari.  Close  by,  my  master. 

Pros.     But  are  they,  Ariel,  safe.^ 

Ari.  Not  a  hair  perish'd; 

On  their  unstaining^^  garments  not  a  blemish. 
But  fresher  than  before:  and,  as  thou  badest  me, 
In  troops  I  have  dispersed  them  'bout  the  isle. 
The  King's  son  have  I  landed  by  himself; 

Gl.  Coil  means  tumult  or  confusion. 

02.  This  clause  means  Tfiere  was  not  a  soul  tlial  did  not  feel  such  a 
fever  as  madmen  feel. 

63.  In  this  place  upstarinr/  means  stickinr/  up. 

64.  For  unstaining  we  would  say  unstained. 


S^Z'2  The  Tempest 

\Miom  I  left  cooling  of  the  air  with  sighs 
In  an  odd  angle®^  of  the  isle,  and  sitting, 
His  arms  in  this  sad  knot."^ 

Pros.  Of  the  Ejng's  ship 

The  mariners,  say,  how  hast  thou  disposed. 
And  all  the  rest  o'  the  fleet  ?«' 

Ari.  Safely  in  harbour 

Is  the  Ejng's  ship;  in  the  deep  nook,  where  once 
Thou  call'dst  me  up  at  midnight  to  fetch  dew 
From  the  still-vex'd  Bermoothes,^^  there  she's 

hid: 
The  mariners  all  under  hatches  stow'd; 
Who,  with  a  charm  join'd  to  their  suffer'd  la* 

bour, 
I've  left  asleep  :^^  and,  for  the  rest  o'  the  fleet 
Which  I  dispersed,  they  all  have  met  again, 
And  are  upon  the  Mediterranean  flote,''' 
Bound  sadly  home  for  Naples; 
Supposing  that  they  saw  the  King's  ship  wreck'd, 
And  his  great  person  perish. 

65.  Odd  angle  probably  means  out-of-the-way  place. 

66.  Probably  Ferdinand  sat  with  his  arms  folded  loosely,  his  head 
hanging  on  his  breast. 

67.  This  is  a  good  example  of  the  way  Shakespeare  sometimes 
changes  the  natural  order  in  which  the  parts  of  a  sentence  should  be  placed. 
Naturally  the  sentence  would  read:  "Say,  how  hast  thou  disposed  of 
the  mariners  of  the  King's  ship,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  fleet  ?" 

68.  Bcrmoothes  is  the  old  form  of  the  word  Bermudas.  It  was 
supposed  that  witches  haunted  the  Bermudas  and  filled  the  air  with 
tempests,  which  kept  the  waters  always  stormy.  Still  vexed  means 
always  stormy.  The  present  errands  of  the  spirit  Ariel  are  not  the  first 
he  has  executed  for  Prospero.  Dew  from  the  Bermudas  was  probably 
wanted  for  some  of  his  magical  rites. 

69.  To  enjoy  Tlie  Tempest,  we  must  lay  aside  our  reason  to  the 
extent  of  beliexing  in  charms  and  in  magic,  in  witchcraft  and  in  Ariel's 
wonderful  powers.  Prospero's  control  of  the  magic  art  is  part  of  what 
he  gained  from  his  studies  while  Antonio  was  stealing  his  principaJity. 

70.  Flote  is  flood,  therefore  v?ave  or  sea. 


The  Tempest  328 

Pros.  Ariel,  thy  charge 

Exactly  is  perform'd:  but  there's  more  work 
What  is  the  time  o'  the  day  ? 

Ari.  Past  the  mid  season, 

At  least  two  glasses.''^ 

Pros.  The  time  'twixt  six  and  now 

Must  by  us  both  be  spent  most  preciously. 

Ari.     Is  there  more  toil  ?     Since  thou  dost  give 
me  pains, 
Let  me  remember^^  thee  what  thou  hast  promised, 
Which  is  not  yet  perform'd"  me. 

Pros.  How  now !  moody .'' 

What  is't  thou  canst  demand  ? 

Ari.  My  liberty. 

Pros.     Before  the  time  be  out  ?  no  more !" 

Ari.  I  pr'ythee. 

Remember  I  have  done  thee  worthy  service; 
Told  thee  no  lies,  made  no  mistakings,  served 
Without  or  grudge  or  grumblings:  thou  didst 

promise 
To  bate  me  a  full  year.'^ 

Pros.  Dost  thou  forget 

From  what  a  torment  I  did  free  thee  ? 

Ari.  No. 

Pros.     Thou   dost;   and   think'st   it   much   to 
tread  the  ooze 
Of  the  salt  deep;  to  run  upon  the  sharp 

71.  This  means  that  it  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon — 
past  the  inid-sea.son  by  about  the  time  it  would  take  the  sand  to  run 
twice  through  the  hour-glass, 

72.  Remember  here  means  remind. 

73.  Perform\l  me  means  performed  for  me. 

74.  Say  no  more. 

75.  "To  relea.se  me  a  full  year  before  my  time  is  up,"  is  what  .\riel 
«ays  Prospero  has  promised. 


3'24  The  Tempest 

Wind  of  the  North;  to  do  me  business  in 
The  veins  o'  the  earth  when  it  is  baked  with 
frost. '« 

Ari.     I  do  not,  sir. 

Pros.     Thou  Hest,  mahgnant  thing!"      Hast 
thou  forgot 
The  foul  ^^•itch  Sycorax,  who  with  age  and  envy^* 
Was  grown  into  a  hoop  ?  hast  thou  forgot  her  ? 

Ari.     Xo,  sir. 

Pros.  Thou  hast:  where  was  she  born.? 

speak;  tell  me. 

Ari.     Sir,  in  Argier.'** 

Pros.  O,  was  she  so  ?     I  must 

Once  in  a  month  recount  what  thou  hast  been, 
Which    thou    forgett'st.        This    damn'd   witch 

Sycorax, 
For  mischiefs  manifold,  and  sorceries  terrible 
To  enter  human  hearing,  from  Argier, 
Thou  know'st,  was  banish'd.     Is  not  this  true  ? 

Ari.     Ay,  sir. 

Pros.     This     blue-eyed     hag^**     was     hither 
brought. 
And  here  was  left  by  th'  sailors.     Thou,  my  slave, 
As  thou  report'st  thyself,  wast  then  her  servant; 
And,  for^^  thou  wast  a  spirit  too  delicate 

76.  This  speech  shows  how  mar\elous  are  some  of  the  things  Ariel 
has  already  done  for  Prospero. 

77.  Prospero  is  not  speaking  in  earnest  when  he  calls  Ariel  a  ''malig- 
nant thing."     He  intends  to  release  Ariel  soon. 

78.  To  Shakespeare  and  other  wTiters  of  his  time,  the  word  envy 
meant  malice. 

79.  Argier  is  an  old  name  for  Algiers. 

80.  Blue-eyed  means  that  the  witch  had  dark  blue  circles  around 
her  eyes,  not  that  she  had  real  blue  eyes. 

81.  For  means  because. 


The  Tempest  325 

To  act  her  earthy  and  abhorr'd  commands, 
Refusing  her  grand  hests,^^  she  did  confine  thee, 
By  help  of  her  more  potent  ministers, 
And  in  her  most  unmitigable  rage, 
Into^^  a  cloven  pine;  within  which  rift 
Imprison'd  thou  didst  painfully  remain 
A  dozen  years;  within  which  space  she  died, 
And  left  thee  there;  where  thou  didst  vent  thy 

groans 
As  fast  as  mill-wheels  strike.     Then  was  this 

island — 
Save  for  the  son  that  she  did  litter  liere,^' 
A  freckled  whelp,  hag-born — not  honour'd  with 
A  human  shape. 

Ari.  Yes,  Caliban  her  son. 

Pj'os.     Dull   thing,  I  say  so;   he,  that  Cali- 
ban, 
Whom  now  I  keep  in  service.  Thou  best  know'st 
What  torment  I  did  find  thee  in:  thy  groans 
Did  make  wolves  howl,  and  penetrate  the  breasts 
Of  ever-angry  bears.     It  was  a  torment 
To  lay  upon  the  damn'd,  which  Sycorax 
Could  not  again  undo:  it  was  mine  art. 
When  I  arrived  and  heard  thee,  that  made  gape 
The  pine,  and  let  thee  out. 

Ari.  I  thank  thee,  master. 

Pros.     If  thou  more  raurmur'st,  I  will  rend  an 
oak. 
And  peg  thee  in  his  knotty  entrails,  till 
Thou'st  howl'd  away  twelve  Winters. 

82.  Hests  means  hehf.if.t  or  commamh. 

83.  The  witrli  confined  Ariel  in  a  cloven  pine  tree. 

84.  This  line  means  sarr  for  Ihr  xon  that  ira.t  bnni  hfre. 

Vol.  IX.-22, 


:V2f>  The  Tempest 

.1//.  Pardon,  master: 

1  will  1)0  rorrespondent^^  to  command, 
And  do  mv  spritino-  (rentlv. 

Pros.  Do  so;  and  after  two  days 

T  will  discharge  thee. 

Ari.  That's  my  noble  master! 

^Miat  shall  I  do?  say  what;  what  shall  I  dor 

Pros.     Go  make  thyself  like  to  a  nymph  o'  the 
sea: 
Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  mine;  invisible 
To  every  eyeball  else.     Go  take  this  shape, 
And  hither  come  in't:  hence,  with  diligence!— 

[Exit  Ariel. 
Awake,  dear  heart,  aw^ake!  thou  hast  slept  well; 
Awake ! 

Mira.     [Waking.]      The  strangeness  of  your 
story  put 
Heaviness  in  me. 

Pros.  Shake  it  off.     Come  on; 

We'll  visit  Caliban  my  slave,  who  never 
Yields  us  kind  answer. 

Mira.  'Tis  a  villain,  sir, 

I  do  not  love  to  look  on. 

Pros.  But,  as  'tis, 

We  cannot  miss  him:^"  he  does  make  our  fire. 
Fetch  in  our  wood,  and  serves  in  offices 
That  profit  us. — What,  ho!  slave!  Caliban! 
Thou  earth,  thou !  speak. 

Cal.  [Within.]      There's  wood  enough  within. 

Pros.     Come  forth,  I  say!  there's  other  busi- 
ness for  thee: 


^5.  Correspondent  means  obedient. 
86.  Miss  means  spare. 


The  Tempest  327 

Come  forth,  thou  tortoise!  when!^^ — 

Re-enter  Ariel,  like  a  Water-nymph. 

Fine  apparition!     My  quaint^''  Ariel, 
Hark  in  thine  ear. 

Ari.  My  lord,  it  shall  be  done.  [Exit. 

Pros.     Thou  poisonous  slave,  come  forth' 

Enter  Caliban. 

Cal.     iVs    wicked^''   dew   as   e'er   my   mother 
brush'd 
With  raven's  feather  from  unwholesome  fen 
Drop  on  you  both!  a  south-west  blow  on  ye. 
And  blister  you  all  o'er!'"^ 

Pros.     For  this,  be  sure,  to-night  thou  shalt 
have  cramps. 
Side-stitches"'    that    shall    pen    thy    breath    up; 

urchins"^ 
Shall,  for  that  vast"*^  of  night  that  they  may  work, 
All  exercise  on  thee;  thou  shalt  be  pinch'd 
As  thick  as  honeycomb,  each  pinch  more  stinging 
Than  bees  that  made  'em. 

Cal.  I  must  eat  m\'  dinner 

This  island's  mine,  by  Sycorax  my  mother. 
Which  thou  takest  from  me.     When  thou  camest 
here  first, 

87.  WIie)i  was  often  used  us  an  t-xelanialion  of  impatience. 

88.  Old  iricaninc^s  for  quaint  are  arlfitl,  iiujcnious. 

89.  Wicked  dew  probably  means  poigonons  dew. 

90.  Caliban,  in  cursing  his  master,  alludes  to  the  common  beliei 
of  that  lime  that  a  southwest  wind  was  unwholesome. 

9L  Side  stitches  are  stitches  or  pains  in  the  side. 

92.  Urchiihs  were  troublesome  sprites  or  fairies. 

93.  Vast  alludes  u  the  middle  hours  of  nij^hl  whe-i  in  the  stiilru-ss 
and  vucuncy  e\ni  s,piiils  can  'lo  their  work. 


3!28  Thi-:  Tkmpest 

Thou  strokedst  ine.  and  madest  iniicli  of  me; 

wouldst  give  me 
Water  with  berries  iii't'^'  and  teach  me  how 
To  name  the  bigger  Hght,  and  how  the  less, 
That  burn  by  day  and  night:  and  then  I  loved 

thee. 
And  show'd  thee  all  the  qualities  o'  the  isle. 
The  fresh  springs,  brine-pits,  barren  place,  and 

fertile. 
Cursed  be  I  that  did  so!     All  the  charms 
Of  Sycorax,  toads,  beetles,  bats,  light  on  you! 
For  I  am  all  the  subjects  that  you  have, 
Wliich  first  Avas  mine  own  king:  and  here  you 

sty^^  me 
In  this  hard  rock,  whiles  you  do  keep  from  me 
The  rest  o'  the  island. 

Pros.  Abhorred  slave. 

Which  any  print  of  goodness  wilt  not  take. 
Being  capable  of  all  ill!     I  pitied  thee, 
Took  pains  to  make  thee  speak,  taught  thee  each 

hour 
One  thing  or  other:  when  thou  didst  not,  savage, 
Know  thine  own  meaning,^^  but  wouldst  gabble 

like 
A  thing  most  brutish,  I  endow'd  thy  purposes 
With  words  that  made  them  known.     But  thy 

vile  race. 
Though  thou  didst  learn,  had  that  in't  which 

good  natures 


94.  Just  what  Caliban  means  here  is  uncertain. 

95.  Sty  here  means  confine,  as  in  a  sty. 

96.  This  clause  means  ditrst  not,  savage,  know  the  meaning  of  thine 
own  words. 


The  Tempest  329 

Could  not  abide  to  be  with;  therefore  wast  thou 
Deservedly  confined  into  this  rock, 
Who  hadst  deserved  more  than  a  prison. 

Cal.     You  taught  me  language;  and  my  profit 
on't 
Is,  I  know  how  to  curse.    The  red  plague  rid"^  you 
For  learning  me  your  language! 

Pi'os.  Hag-seed,  hence! 

Fetch  us  in  fuel;  and  be  quick,  thou'rt  best, 
To  answer  other  business.  Shrugg'st  thou,  malice? 
If  thou  neglect'st,  or  dost  unwillingly 
What  I  command,  I'll  rack  thee  with  old^^  cramps. 
Fill  all  thy  bones  with  aches,  make  thee  roar, 
That  beasts  shall  tremble  at  thy  din. 

Cal.  No,  pray  thee.— 

[Aside.]     I  must  obey:  his  art  is  of  such  power, 
It  would  control  my  dam's  god,  Setebos, 
And  make  a  vassal  of  him. 

Pros.  So,  slave;  hence! 

[Exit  Caliban. 

Re-enter  Ariel  invisible,  playing  and  singing; 
Ferdinand  folloiving. 

Ariel's  Song 

Come  unto  these  yellow  sands, 

And  then  take  hands: 
Curtsied  when  you  have,  and  kiss'd 

The  wild  waves  whist, ^" 


97.  Rid  means  dcstroij. 

98.  Old  here,  as  often  in  tlie  writinp;s  of  Sliakcs|H'aro's  lime,  is  useiJ 
merely  to  make  stronger  the  meaning  of  the  word  llial  follows  it. 

99.  Kiss'd  the  wild  waves  whisf.  means  mtoihi'd  Ihr  wild  irarrs  into 
pcMce. 


SiM)  Thk  Tkmpest 

Foot  it  featly  here  and  there; 

And,  sweet  sprites,  the  bnrden  bear. 

(7/ u nieti  di.sper.sedly 
Bow-wow. 
Bow-wow. 
Hark,  hark!     I  hear         j 
The     strain     of    strutting  | 

chantieleer.  \  Coek-a-diddle-dow. 

Ferd.     Where  should  this  music  be  ?  i'  the  air, 
or  th'  earth  ? 
It  sounds  no  more:  and,  sure,  it  waits  upon 
Some  god  o'  the  island.     Sitting  on  a  bank, 
AVeeping  again  the  King  my  father's  wreck. 
This  music  crept  by  me  upon  the  waters. 
Allaying    both    their    fury    and    my    passion'"" 
With  its  sweet  air:  thence  I  have  follow 'd  it. 
Or  it  hath  drawn  me  rather.     But  'tis  gone. 
Xo,  it  begins  again. 

Ariel  sings. 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies; 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes: 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change^ °^ 
Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell: 

Burden.  Ding-dong. 

Hark!  now  I  hear  them, — Ding-dong,  bell. 

100.  Ferdinand  was  suffering,  and  Shakespeare  used  the  word  passion 
to  express  the  idea  as  we  use  it  in  speaking  of  the  Passion  of  Christ. 

101.  This  Hne  means  witfioiit  suffering  a  change  from  the  effects  of 
the  sea. 


The  Tempest  331 

Ferd.     The  ditty  does  remember  my  drown'd 
father. 
This  is  no  mortal  business,  nor  no  sound 
That  the  earth  owes.^"-     I  hear  it  now  above  me. 
Pros.     The  fringed  curtains  of  thine  eye  ad- 
vance ,^'^'' 
And  say  what  thou  see'st  yond. 

Mini.  What  is't.^  a  spirit.^ 

Lord,  how  it  looks  about!     Believe  me,  sir, 
It  carries  a  brave^"^  form.     But  'tis  a  spirit. 
Pros.     No,  wench;  it  eats  and  sleeps,  and  hath 
such  senses 
As  we  have,  such.    This  gallant  which  thou  see'st 
Was  in  the  wreck;  and,  but  he's  something  staiu'd 
With  grief,  that's  beauty's  canker,^"^  thou  mightst 

call  him 
A  goodly  person:  he  hath  lost  his  fellows. 
And  strays  about  to  find  'em. 

Mira.  I  might  call  him 

A  thing  divine;  for  nothing  natural 
I  ever  saw  so  noble. '"" 

Pros.     [Aside.]  It  goes  on,"*'  I  sec. 

As  my  soul  promj^ts  it. — Spirit,  fine  spiriti      Til 

free  thee 
Within  two  days  for  this. 

102.  Owes  here  means  possesses. 

103.  Prospero  speakiiij,'  to  Miranda  says,  "I.il't  up  your  eyelids  and 
tell  me  what  you  see  yonder." 

104.  In  this  connection  brare  means //«<>  or  noble. 

105.  rfl»At'r  means  rn.sf  or  taniixli.  Prospero  says,  "  Except  lor  the 
fact  that  he's  somewhat  stained  witii  ^nief.  which  tarnishes  hennly, 
you  might  call  him  a  fjoodly  ixtsihi." 

10(i.  Miranda,  it  must  be  remenihercd,  lias  never  seen  any  oilier 
man  than  her  lather. 

107.  Prospero  .sees  his  plaJi  ;,'oin;;  on  well  and  f,'ives  .\ricl  cre<lil 
for  it.     Just  what  the  plan  is  will  .soon  become  apparent. 


.'J.S'-2  THP:     lEiMPEST 

Ferd.  Most  sure,  tlie  goddess 

On    whom    these    airs    attend! — Vouchsafe    my 

]3rayer 
iNIay  know  if  you  remain  upon  this  island; 
And  tliat  vou  Avill  some  ijood  instruction  mve 
How  I  may  bear  me  here:  my  prime  request. 
Which  I  do  hist  pronounce,  is, — O  you  wonder ! — 
If  you  be  maid  or  no  ?'"^ 

Mira.  No  wonder,^ '^^  sir; 

But  certainly  a  maid. 

Ferd.  My  language !>'"  Heavens! — 

T  am  the  best  of  them  that  speak  this  speech, 
Were  I  but  where  'tis  spoken. 

Pros.  How!  the  best.^ 

What  wert  thou,  if  the  King  of  Naples  heard  thee  ? 

Ferd.  A  single  thing,^^^  as  I  am  now%  that 
wonders 
To  hear  thee  speak  of  Naples.  He  does  hear  me ; 
And  that  he  does  I  weep:  myself  am  Naples ;^^^ 
Who  with  mine  eyes,  ne'er  since  at  ebb,  beheld 
The  King  my  father  wreck'd. 

Mira.  Alack,  for  mercy! 

Ferd.     Yes,  faith,  and  all  his  lords;  the  Duke  of 
Milan 
And  his  brave  son^^^  being;  twain. 

108.  Ferdinand  speaks  somewhat  aside  when  he  sees  the  beautiful 
Miianda,  and  then  directly  addresses  her.  He  is  embarrassed,  calls 
her  a  goddess,  asks  her  how  he  shall  behave,  calls  her  a  wonder,  but 
above  all,  wishes  to  know  if  she  is  mortal  or  not. 

109.  The  word  Miramla  means  wonderful. 

110.  "She  speaks  my  language!" 

111.  A  single  thing  means  a  iveak  and  companionless  thing. 

112.  Myself  am  Naples  means  /  am  now  tfie  King  of  Naples. 

113.  Notice  that  this  is  the  <jnly  mention  of  a  son  to  Antonio,  the 
usurping  Duke  of  Milan, 


The  Tempest  333 

Pros.     [AsUic]  The  Duke  of  Milan 

And   his   more   braver   da  lighter   could    control 

thee,^'' 
If  now  t'were  fit  to  do't.     At  the  first  sight 
They  have  changed  eyes.^*^ — Delicate  Ariel, 
I'll  set  thee  free  for  this! — A  word,  good  sir; 
I  fear  you've  done  yourself  some  wrong:"*  a  word. 

Mira.     Whv  speaks  mv  father  so  ungentlv  ? 
This 
Is  the  third  man  that  e'er  I  saw;  the  first 
That  e'er  I  sigh'd  for:  pity  move  my  father 
To  be  inclined  my  way! 

Ferd.  O,  if  a  virgin, 

And  your  affection  not  gone  forth,  I'll  make  you 
The  Queen  of  Naples. 

Pros.  Soft,  sir!  one  word  more. — 

[Aside.]     They're  both  in  cither's  powers:  but 

this  swift  business 
I  must  uneasy  make,  lest  too  light  winning. 
Make   the    prize    light. "^ — One  word    more;     I 

charge  thee 
That  thou  attend  me:  Thou  dost  here  usurp 
The  name  thou  owest  not;  and  hast  put  thyself 
Upon  this  island  as  a  spy,  to  win  it 
From  me,  the  lord  on't. 

Ferd.  No,  as  I'm  a  man. 

111.  Control  means  here  confute,  that  is,  tell  you  differently. 

115.  Praspero  notices  the  interest  the  two  young  i>eople  have  taken 
in  each  other,  and  as  this  furthers  his  [)lan  he  feels  more  grateful  t<> 
Ariel. 

IIG.  What  Prospero  says  is,  "I  fear  that  in  claiming  to  be  the  King 
of  Naples  you  have  done  some  wrong  to  your  character." 

117.  Prospero  wishes  to  test  the  love  he  sees  in  Ferdinand,  and 
make  him  earn  his  prize.  So  ho  charges  the  young  man  witli  deceit 
and  threatens  him. 


:V.i4  The  Tempest 

Mira.     There's  nothint;-  ill  can  dwell  in  such 
a  temple: 
If  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  a  house, 
Good  thinc;s  will  strive  to  dwell  with't. 

Pros.     [To  Ferd.]  Follow  me. — 

Speak  not  you  for  him;  he's  a  traitor. — Come; 
ril  manacle  thy  -neck  and  feet  together: 
Sea-water  shalt  thou  drink;  thy  food  shall  be 
The   fresh-brook   muscles,   withered   roots,   and 

husks 
Wherein  the  acorn  cradled:  follow. 

Ferd.  No; 

I  will  resist  such  entertainment,  till 
Mine  enemy  has  more  power. 

[He  draios,  and  is  charmed  from  moving. 

Mira.  O  dear  father. 

Make  not  too  rash  a  trial  of  him,  for 
He's  gentle,  and  not  fearful. ^^^ 

Pros.  What,  I  say. 

My  fool  my  tutor! — Put  thy  sword  up,  traitor; 
Wlio  makest  a  show,  but  darest  not  strike,  thy 

conscience 
Is  so  possess'd  with  guilt:  come  from  thy  ward;''** 
For  I  can  here  disarm  thee  with  this  stick, 
And  make  thy  weapon  drop. 

Mira.  Beseech  you,  father! — 

Pros.     Hence!  hang  not  on  my  garments. 

Mira.  Sir,  have  pity; 

I'll  be  his  surety. 

Pros.  Silence!  one  word  more 

Shall  make  me  chide  thee,  if  not  hate  thee.  What! 

118.  Fearful  here  means  timid. 

119.  Ward  is  his  position  of  defen.se  to  ward  off  a  blow. 


The  Tempest 


335 


"I'll   UK    IU3   SURETY. 


An  advocate  for  an  iinpostor?  husli! 

Tliou  think'st  llicrc  aiv  no  more  sucli  sliajH'sas  lie. 

Having  seen  but  him  and  Caliban:  foolish  wench ! 


:J3(>  The  Tempest 

To  til*  most  of  men  this  is  a  Caliban, 
And  they  to  him  are  angels. 

Mira.  My  affections 

Are,  then,  must  humble;  I  have  no  ambition 
To  see  a  goodlier  man. 

Pros.     [To  Ferd.]     Come  on;  obey: 
Thy  nerves^ ^^  are  in  their  infancy  again, 
And  have  no  vigour  in  them. 

Ferd.  So  the}-  are: 

My  spirits,  as  in  a  dream,  are  all  bound  up. 
My  father's  loss,  the  weakness  which  I  feel, 
The  wreck  of  all  my  friends,    and  this    man's 

threats 
To  whom  I  am  subdued,  are  light  to  me, 
]\Iight  I  but  through  my  prison  once  a  day 
Behold  this  maid:  all  corners  else  o'  the  Earth 
Let  liberty  make  use  of;  space  enough 
Have  I  in  such  a  prison. 

Pros.     [Aside.]    It  works. — [To  Ferd.]  Come 
on. — 
Thou  hast  done  well,  fine  Ariel! — Follow  me. — 
[To  Ariel.]     Hark,  what  thou  else  shalt  do  me. 

Mira.  Be  of  comfort; 

My  father's  of  a  better  nature,  sir. 
Than  he  appears  by  speech:  this  is  unwonted 
Which  now  came  from  him. 

Pros.     [To  Ariel.]  Thou  shalt  be  as  free 

As  mountain  winds:  but  then  exactly  do 
All  points  of  mv  command. 

Ari.  '  To  th'  syllable. 

Pros.     Come,  follow. — Speak  not  for  him. 

[Exeunt. 

120.  Nerves  is  here  used  for  muscles  and  simics. 


The  Tempest  337 

ACT  II 

Scene  I. — Another  part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Gonzalo, 
Adrian, Francisco,  and  Others. — Gonzalo 
speaks. 

ESEECH  you,  sir,  be  merry:  you  have 
cause — 
So  have  we  all — of  joy;  for  our  escape 
Is  much  beyond  our  loss.      Our  hint 
of  woe 

..s  common;  every  day  some  sailor's  wife. 
The  master  of  some  merchant,'  and  the  merchant, 
Have  just  our  theme  of  woe :  but  for  the  miracle — 
I  mean  our  preservation — few  in  millions 
Can  speak  like  us:  then  wisely,  good  sir,  weigh 
Our  sorrow  with  our  comfort. 

Alon.  Pr'ythee,  peace. 

Sebas.     He  receives  comfort  like  cold  porridge. 
Afito.     The  visitor^  will  not  give  him  o'er  so. 
Sebas.     Look,  he's  winding  up  the  watch  of 

his  wit;  by-and-by  it  will  strike. 
Gonza.     Sir, — 
Sebas.     One: — tell.^ 

Gonza. — When  every  grief  is  entertain'd  that's 
offer'd. 
Comes  to  the  entertainer — 


1.  This  word  means  a  ship — the  mcrdiaatiimii. 

2.  A  visitor  in  this  sense  is  one  who  visits  the  sick  to  comfort  I  hem. 
Antonio  and  SeVjastian  are  ridiculing  Goni^alo  for  liis  efforts  to  cheer 
and  console  them. 

.'{.  Tell  means  keeji  tall;/.  Sf-bastian  means  llial  the  clock  of  (Jon- 
zaio's  wif  has  struck  one. 


:LSS  The  Tempest 

Seba^.     A  dollar. 

Gonza.  Dolour'  comes  to  him,  indeed:  you 
have  spoken  truer  than  you  purposed. 

Sebas.  You  have  taken  it  wiselier  than  I 
meant  you  should. 

Gonza.     Therefore,  my  lord, — 

Anto.  Fie,  what  a  spendthrift  is  he  of  his 
tongue ! 

Alon.     I  pr'ythee,  spare  me. 

Gonza.     Well,  I  have  done:  but  yet — 

Sebas.     He  will  be  talking. 

Anto.  ^Miich,  of  he  or  Adrian,^  for  a  good 
wager,  first  begins  to  crow  ? 

Sebas.     The  old  cock.* 

Anto.     The  cockerel. 

Sebas.    Done !     The  wager  ? 

Anto.     A  laughter. 

Sebas.    A  match  !^ 

Adri.     Though  this  island  seem  to  be  desert, — 

Sebas.    Ha,  ha,  ha  I — So,  you're  paid.^ 

Adri. — uninhabitable,  and  almost  inaccess- 
ible,— 

Sebas.     Yet — 

Adri. — yet — 

Anto.     He  could  not  miss't. 

Adri. — it  must  needs  be  of  subtle,  tender,  and 
delicate  temperance.® 

4.  Dolour  means  grief  or  sadness. 

5.  Instead  of  of  he  or  Adrian,  we  would  say  merely  he  or  Adrian. 
Antonio  offers  to  bet  a  good  sum  on  which  will  speak  first,  Gonzalo 
or  Adrian. 

6.  Gonzalo. 

7    A  match  means  I  take  the  bet. 

8.  Sebastian  has  lost  his  bet,  and  he  pays  with  a  laugh. 

9.  Adrian  means  temperature  when  he  says  temperance. 


The  Tempest  339 

Anto.     Temperance  was  a  delicate  wench. '" 

Sebas.  Ay,  and  a  subtle;  as  he  most  learnedly 
delivered. 

Adri.  The  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most 
sweetly. 

Sebas.     As  if  it  had  lungs,  and  rotten  ones. 

Anto.     Or  as  'twere  perfumed  by  a  fen. 

Gonza.   Here  is  every  thing  advantageous  to  life. 

Anto.     True;  save  means  to  live. 

Sebas.     Of  that  there's  none,  or  little. 

Gonza.  How  lush^^  and  lusty  the  grass  looks ! 
how  green! 

Anto.     The  ground,  indeed,  is  tawny, 

Sebas.     With  an  eye^^  of  green  in't. 

Anto.     He  misses  not  much. 

Sebas.  No;  he  doth  but  mistake  the  truth 
totally. 

Gonza.  But  the  rarity  of  it  is, — which  is  indeed 
almost  beyond  credit, — 

Sebas.     As  many  vouch'd  rarities  are. 

Gonza. — that  our  garments,  being,  as  they 
were,  drenched  in  the  sea,  are  now  as  fresh  as 
when  we  put  them  on  first  in  Afric,  at  the  mar- 
riage of  the  King's  fair  daughter  Claribel  to  the 
Kin":  of  Tunis. 

Sebas.  'Twas  a  sweet  marriage,  and  we 
prosper  well  in  our  return. 

Adri.  Tunis  was  never  graced  before  with 
such  a  paragon  to^^  their  Queen. 

10.  People  often  ntimed  their  girls  Temperance,  PnuUnce,  Faith,  etc. 
It  is  to  this  fact  that  Antonio  jokinj^ly  ulhules. 

11.  Lush  means  jiiicj/. 

12.  Ki/e  hero  means  tint  or  shade. 

13.  We  would  now  say  for  instead  of  to. 


iJ40  The  Tempest 

Oonzd.     Not  since  widow  Dido's  time.'^ 

Anio.  Widow?  a  pox  o'  that!  How  came 
that  widow  in/     Widow  Dido! 

Sebas.  What  if  he  had  said  widower  ^Eneas 
too?     Good  Lord,  how  yon  take  it! 

.idri.  Widow  Dido,  said  you  ?  you  make  me 
study  of  that :  she  was  of  Carthage,  not  of  Tunis. 

Gonza.     This  Tunis,  sir,  was  Carthage. 

Adri.     Carthage! 

Gonza.     I  assure  you,  Carthage. 

Anto.  His  word  is  more  than  the  miraculous 
harp.^° 

Sebas.  He  hath  raised  the  wall  and  houses 
too. 

Anto.  WTiat  impossible  matter  will  he  make 
easy  next? 

Sebas.  I  think  he  will  carry  this  island  home 
in  his  pocket,  and  give  it  his  son  for  an  apple. 

Anto.  And,  sowing  the  kernels  of  it  in  the  sea, 
bring  forth  more  islands. 

Alon.     Ah ! 

Anto.     Why,  in  good  time. 

Gonza.  Sir,  we  were  talking  that  our  garments 
seem  now  as  fresh  as  when  we  were  at  Tunis  at 
the  marriage  of  your  daughter,  who  is  now 
Queen. 

Anio.     And  the  rarest  that  e'er  came  there. 

Sebas.     Bate,  I  beseech  you,  widow  Dido. 

Anto.     O,  widow  Dido!  ay,  widow  Dido. 

14.  Tunis  is  near  the  supposed  site  of  Carthage.  The  story  of  Dido 
and  JEneas  is  told  in  Virgil's  /Eneid. 

1.5.  One  of  the  stories  of  the  god  Mercury  is  that  he  gave  to  Aiuphiou, 
King  of  Thebes,  a  magic  harp  upon  wliich  the  king  played  and  so  chariuird 
the  stones  that  they  .sprang  into  place  to  make  the  walls  of  his  city. 


The  Tempest  341 

Gonza.     Is  not,  sir,  my  doublet  as  fresh  as  the 

first  day  I  wore  it,  at  your  daughter's  marriage  ? 

Alon.     You  cram  these  words  into  mine  ears 

against 
The  stomach  of  my  sense.  ^^     Would  I  had  never 
Married  my  daughter  there!  for,  coming  thence. 
My  son  is  lost;  and,  in  my  rate,^^  she  too, 
Who  is  so  far  from  Italy  removed, 
I  ne'er  ag-ain  shall  see  her.     O  thou  mine  heir 
Of  Naples  and  of  Milan,  what  strange  fish 
Hath  made  his  meal  on  thee? 

Fran.  Sir,  he  may  live: 

I  saw  him  beat  the  surges  under  him, 
And  ride  upon  their  backs;  he  trod  the  water. 
Whose  enmity  he  flung  aside,  and  breasted 
The  surge  most  swoln  that  met  him:  his  bold 

head 
'Bove  the  contentious  waves  he  kept,  and  oar'd 
Himself  with  his  good  arms  in  lusty  stroke 
To  th'   shore,   that  o'er  his^^  wave-worn  basis 

bow'd, 
As^**  stooping  to  relieve  him:  I  not  doubt 
He  came  alive  to  land. 

Alon.  No,  no;  he's  gone. 

Sebas.     Sir,  you  may  thank  yourself  for  this 

great  loss, 
That   would    not    bless    uur   Euro[)e    with   your 

daughter, 

16.  The  meaiiiiifj  of  stomack  in  lliis  line  is  a/>i>ctilf  or  denire.  Alon.so 
says  they  crowd  tlieir  words  iiifn  lijs  oars  wlicn  his  foelinps  do  not  relish 
such  nonsense. 

17.  Rale  means  enliiiialiiin. 

18.  //?.»  is  used  for  iln  and  refers  to  uliore. 

1 9.  I''or  a.i,  will  I  a.i  if. 

Vol.  IX.-2.3. 


342  The  Tempest 

But  rather  lose  her  to  an  African; 

Where  she  at  least  is  banish'd  from  your  eye, 

Who-"  hath  cause  to  wet  the  grief  on't. 

Alon.  Pr'ythee,  peace. 

Sehas.     You  were  kneel'd  to,  and  importuned 
otherwise. 
By  all  of  us;  and  the  fair  soul  herself 
Weio-h'd,  between  loathness  and  obedience,  at 
Which  end  the  beam  should  bow.^^      W>'ve  lost 

your  son. 
I  fear,  for  ever:  Milan  and  Naples  have 
More  widows  in  them  of  this  business'  making 
Than  we  bring  men  to  comfort  them:  the  fault's 
Your  own. 

Alon.     So  is  the  dear'st^^  o'  the  loss. 

Gonza.  My  lord  Sebastian, 

The  truth  you  speak  doth  lack  some  gentleness, 
And  time  to  speak  it  in :  you  rub  the  sore. 
When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

Sebas.  Very  well. 

Anto.     And  most  chirurgeonly.^^ 

Gonza.  It  is  foul  weather  in  us  all,  good  sir. 
When  you  are  cloudy.  ^^ 

Sehas.  Foul  weather! 

20.  WJio  is  used  for  which.  This  is  but  anottier  illustration  of 
the  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  the  use  of  words  since  Shake- 
speare's time. 

21.  Sebastian  tells  the  King  that  he  alone  is  resjxjnsible  for  the 
loss.  Even  his  daughter  weighed  her  wish  to  be  obedient  against  her 
loathing  of  the  match. 

22.  Dearest  here  means  the  same  as  heaviest  or  worst. 

23.  Chirimfeon  is  the  old  word  for  surgeon.  Antonio  says,  "And 
in  the  most  surgeon-like  manner." 

24.  Gonzalo  says,  literally.  "When  you  are  sad.  we  all  share  your 
sorrow." 


The  Tempest  343 

Anto.  Very  foul. 

Gonza.     Had   I   plantation""^   of  this   isle,  my 
lord, — 

Anto.      He'd  sow't  with  ncttlc-seed. 

Sebas.  Or  docks,  or  mallows. 

Gonza. — x\nd  were  the  King  on't,  what  would 
Ido.^ 

Sebas.     'Scape  being  drunk  for  want  of  wine. 

Gonza.     I'  the  commonwealth  I  would  by  con- 
traries 
Execute  all  things;  for  no  kind  of  traffic 
Would  I  admit;  no  name  of  magistrate; 
Letters  should  not  be  known;  riches,  poverty, 
And  use  of  service,  none;  contract,  succession, ^^ 
Bourn, ^"^  bound  of  land,  tilth, -'^  vineyard,  none; 
No  use  of  metal,  corn,  or  wine,  or  oil; 
No  occupation;  all  men  idle,  all. 
And  women  too,  but  innocent  and  pure; 
No  sovereignty: — 

Sebas.  Yet  he  would  be  king  on't. 

Anto.     The  latter  end  of  his  commonwealth 
forgets  the  Vjeginning. 

Gonza. — All  things  in  common  Nature  should 
produce 
Without  sweat  or  endeavour:  treason,  felony. 
Sword,  pike,  knife,  gun,  or  need  of  any  engine,-" 
Would  I  not  have;  but  Nature  should  bring  forth, 

25.  "Had    I    the   colonizing"    is    what    (ionzalo    means.     Antonio 
makes  it  appear  that  Gonzalo  was  speaking  of  plantiiuj  the  island. 

26.  Succession  means  inheritance,  as  a  son  muxeeds  to  his  father's 
property. 

27.  Bourn  means  brook,  hence  boumlary,  as  of  laud. 

28.  Tilth  means  tillage  or  cultivation,  as  of  land. 

29.  He  probably  means  any  engine  of  irar. 


344  The  Tempest 

Of  its  own  kind,  all  foison,'"  all  abundance, 
To  feed  my  innocent  people, 

Scbas.     No  marrying  'mong  his  subjects  ? 

Auto.     None,  man;  all  idle. 

Gonza.     I  would  with  such  perfection  govern, 
sir, 
T'  excel  the  golden  age.^* 

Sebas.  God  save  his  Majesty! 

Anto.     Long  live  Gonzalo! 

Gonza.  And — do  you  mark  me,  sir? — 

Alon.  Pr'ythee,  no  more:  thou  dost  talk 
nothing  to  me. 

Gonza.  I  do  well  believe  your  Highness;  and 
did  it  to  minister  occasion  to  these  gentlemen, 
who  are  of  such  sensible^^  and  nimble  lungs,  that 
they  always  use  to  laugh  at  nothing. 

Anto.     'Twas  you  we  laugh'd  at. 

Gonza.  Who  in  this  kind  of  merry  fooling  am 
nothing  to  you  :^^  so  you  may  continue,  and  laugh 
at  nothing;  still. 

Anto.     What  a  blow  was  there  given! 

Sebas..    An  it  had  not  fallen  flat-long.^* 

Gonza.  You  are  gentlemen  of  brave  mettle; 
you  would  lift  the  Moon  out  of  her  sphere,  if  she 
would^^  continue  in  it  five  weeks  without  changing. 

30.  Foison  means  plenty  of  grain  or  fruits. 

31.  The  Golden  Age  is  that  period  of  the  world's  history  when  there 
was  no  sin,  sorrow  or  suffering,  and  when  all  mankind  was  so  good 
that  there  was  no  need  of  government  of  any  sort.  The  Greeks,  especi- 
ally, but  other  peoples  to  some  e.xtent,  have  mythical  tales  of  such  a  time. 

32.  Sensible  is  here  used  for  sensitive. 

33.  Gonzalo  admits  that  in  witty  talk  he  is  nothing  in  comparison 
to  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

34.  A  blow  with  the  flat  of  a  sword  is  harmless;  so  is  Gonzalo's  wit. 

35.  We  would  say  sliould  instead  of  would  in  this  case. 


The  Tempest  345 

Enter  Ariel,  invisible,  playing  solemn  mu»ic. 

Sebas.  We  would  so,  and  then  go  a-bat- 
fowling.^^ 

Anto.     Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  not  angry. 

Gonza.  No,  I  warrant  you;  I  will  not  adven- 
ture^' my  discretion  so  weakly.  Will  you  laugh 
me  asleep  ?  for  I  am  very  heavy. 

Anto.     Go  sleep,  and  hear  us  not. 

[All  sleep^^  but  Alon.,  Sebas.,  and  Anto. 

Alon.     What,  all  so  soon  asleep!     I  wish  mine 
eyes 
Would,  with  themselves,  shut  up  my  thoughts:  I 

find 
They  are  inclined  to  do  so. 

Sebas.  Please  you,  sir. 

Do  not  omit^**  the  heavy  offer  of  it: 
It  seldom  visits  sorrow;  when  it  doth, 
It  is  a  comforter. 

Anto.  We  two,  my  lord, 

Will  guard  your  person  while  you  take  your  rest, 
And  watch  your  safety. 

Alon.  Thank  you. — Wondrous  heavy. ^" 

36.  When  they  used  to  hunt  birds  in  the  nif,dit,  they  called  it  bat- 
fowling. Sometimes  at  night  they  took  a  li{,'ht  into  the  woods,  and 
while  one  of  the  hunters  held  a  net  in  front  of  the  light,  the  others  would 
beat  the  bushes  round  about.  Some  of  the  frightened  birds  would  fly 
directly  at  the  light  and  become  entangled  in  the  net. 

37.  Adventure  here  means  put  in  peril. 

38.  Ariel  is  at  work  again,  and  in  carrying  out  the  plans  of  Pros|)ero, 
he  causes  some  to  fall  asleep  that  the  others  may  plot. 

39.  Omit  here  means  ncijlect.  Sebastian  suggests  that  it  will  be 
better  for  Alonso  to  go  to  sleep  while  he  can.  He  has  reasons  for  wishing 
the  King  asleep. 

40.  Alonso  grows  more  sleepy  under  Ariel's  influence,  and  in  these 
words  alludes  to  what  Sebastian  has  just  said — "It  is  a  wondrous 
heavy  offer  of  sleep." 


346  The  Tempest 

[Alonso  sleeps.     Exit  Ariel. 

Sebas.     What  a  strange  drowsiness  possesses 
them ! 

Auto.     It  is  the  quaUty  o'  the  dimate. 

Sebas.  Why 

Doth  it  not,  then,  our  eyeUds  sink?     I  find  not 
Myself  disposed  to  sleep. 

Anto.  Nor  I;  my  spirits  are  nimble. 

They*^  fell  together  all,  as  by  consent; 
They  dropp'd,  as  by  a   thunder-stroke.      What 

might. 
Worthy  Sebastian,  O,  what  might !^^    No  more: 
And  yet  methinks  I  see  it  in  thy  face. 
What  thou  shouldst  be :  th'  occasion  speaks  thee  ;^^ 

and 
IMy  strong  imagination  sees  a  crown 
Dropping  upon  thy  head. 

Sebas.  What,  art  thou  waking  ? 

Anto.     Do  you  not  hear  me  speak  ? 

Sebas.  I  do;  and  surely 

It  is  a  sleepy  language,  and  thou  speak'st 
Out  of  thy  sleep.     What  is  it  thou  didst  say  ? 
This  is  a  strange  repose,  to  be  asleep 
With  eyes  wide  open;  standing,  speaking,  mov- 
ing, 
And  yet  so  fast  asleep. 

Anto.  Noble  Sebastian, 

Thou  lett'st  thy  fortune  sleep, — die  rather;  wink'st 


41.   They  refers  to  the  other  men. 

4:2.  Probably  we  must  understand  Antonio  to  mean,  "What  might 
you  be!"  In  this  way  Antonio  begins  to  tempt  Sebastian,  whom  he 
finds  ready  to  Hsten. 

43.  Speaks  means  proclaims. 


The  Tempest  347 

Whiles  thou  art  waking/* 

Sebas.  Thou  dost  snore  distinctly; 

There's  meanino-  in  thy  snores. 

Anto.     I  am  more  serious  than  my  custom :  you 
Must  be  so  too,  if  heed^^  me;  which  to  do 
Trebles  thee  o'er.^^ 

Sebas.  Well,  I  am  standing  water/' 

Anto.     I'll  teach  you  how  to  flow. 

Sebas.  Do  so:  to  ebb 

Hereditary  sloth  instructs  me. 

Anto.  O, 

If  you  but  knew  how  you  the  purpose  cherish 
Whiles  thus  you  mock  it!  how,  in  stripping  it, 
You  more  invest  it!^^     Ebbing  men,***  indeed. 
Most  often  do  so  near  the  bottom  run 
By  their  own  fear  or  sloth. 

Sebas.  Pr'ythee,  say  on: 

The  setting  of  thine  eye  and  cheek  proclaim 
A  matter^"  from  thee;  and  a  birth  indeed 
Which  throes  thee  much  to  yield. ^^ 

Anto.  Thus,  sir: 

44.  Antonio  says  in  effect,  "You  close  your  eyes  when  you  are  awake. 
You  are  blind  to  your  opportunity.  " 

45.  "If  ymi  heed  me." 

46.  Antonio  means,  "Which  if  you  do,  you  shall  be  three  times  as 
great  as  you  are  now." 

47.  By  7  am  standhuj  water,  Sebastian  means  that  he  is  like  the 
<x:ean  standing  Ijetweeii  tides,  ready  to  ebb  or  flow.  That  is,  he  is  ready 
to  accept  suggestions  from  Antonio. 

48.  Antonio  says  in  effect,  "The  more  you  rifliculc  tlio  purpose  I 
suggest,  the  more  you  welcome  it." 

49.  Ehbimj  men,  that  is,  men  whose  fortunes  are  at  a  low  ebb. 

50.  Matter  means  somclfiiiu/  of  great  importance. 

51.  "It  is  difficult  or  jjainfui  for  you  to  say  what  you  think."  While 
both  have  ul)f)ut  the  same  idea  in  their  minds,  ncitlirr  is  ijuitc  willing 
to  speak  of  it  opeidy.     It  is  too  cruel  ami  munlerous  a  thought. 


348  Tm:  '  I' km  pest 

Althounli  tliis  lord'-  of  weak  remembrance,  this 
Who  shall  be  of  as  little  memory'-* 
When    he   is   earth'd,'^'   hath    hero    almost    per- 
suaded— 
For  he's  a  spirit  of  persuasion,  only 
Professes  to  persuade — the  King  his  son's  alive, 
'Tis  as  impossible  that  he's  undrown'd 
As  he  that  sleeps  here  swims. 

Sebas.  I  have  no  hope 

That  he's  undrown'd. 

Anto.  O,  out  of  that  no  hope 

WTiat  great  hope  have  you!  no  hope  that  way  is 
Another  way  so  high  a  hope,  that  even 
Ambition  cannot  pierce  a  wink'^^  beyond — 
But   doubt   discovery   there.''"     Will   you   grant 

with  me 
That  Ferdinand  is  drown'd  .^ 

Sebas.  He's  gone. 

Anto.  Then,  tell  me. 

Who's  the  next  heir  of  Naples  ? 

Sebas.  Claribel. 

Anto.     She  that  is  Queen  of  Tunis;  she  that 
dwells 
Ten  leagues  beyond  man's  life;^^  she  that  from 
Naples 

52.  Francisco. 

53.  That  is,  "this  lord  who  remembers  little  of  the  fa%'ors  done  him, 
and  ^ill  be  remembered  no  better." 

54.  Earth'd  means  buried. 

55.  A  wink  here  means  tfie  least  distance. 

56.  It  is  difficult  to  say  just  what  But  doubt  discovery  there  means. 
Antonio  says,  "But  out  of  your  certainty  that  Ferdinand  is  drowned, 
you  have  a  great  hope,  a  hope  so  high  that  ambition  cannot  see  anjthing 
greater." 

57.  This  means  ten  leagues  farther  away  than  a  man  can  travel  in 
his  life. 


The  Tempest  349 

Can  have  no  note,^^  unless  the  Sun  were  post, — ^^ 
The  Man-i'-the-moon's  too  slow, — till  new-born 

chins 
Be  rough  and  razorable.     She  'twas  for  whom  we 
All  were  sea-swallow'd,  though  some  cast  again  ;^" 
And,  by  that  destiny,  to  perform  an  act 
\Miereof  what's  past  is  prologue;  what  to  come,®' 
In  yours  and  my  discharge. 

Sebas.         What  stuff  is  this !     How  say  you  ? 
'Tis   true,    my   brother's    daughter's    Queen    of 

Tunis ; 
So  is  she  heir  of  Naples ;  'twixt  which  regions 
There  is  some  space. 

Anto.  A  space  whose  every  cubit 

Seems  to  cry  out,  How  shall  thou,  Claribel, 
Measure  us  back^^  to  Na'ples?     Keep  in  Tunis, 
And  let  Sebastian  wake!     Say,  this  were  death 
That  now  hath  seized  them;  why,  they  were  no 

worse 
Than  now  they  are.     There  be®^  that  can  rule 

Naples 
As  well  as  he  that  sleeps;  lords  that  can  prate 
As  amply  and  unnecessarily 
As  this  Gonzalo:  T  myself  could  make 
A  chough®*  of  as  deep  chat."^     O,  that  you  bore 
The  mind  that  I  do!  what  a  sleep  were  this 
For  your  advancement !  Do  you  understand  me  ? 

."jS.  Can  have  no  note  moans  can  receice  no  word. 

59.  This  clause  means  unless  the  sun  carried  tlir  mail. 

00.  Though  some  were  cast  up  again. 

01.  This  sentence  means,  you  and  I  can  manage  what  is  to  come. 
0)2.  "Measure  us  hade,  etc.,"  means  the  same  as  Return  to  us. 
63.  The  word  others  may  be  uiKlersfood  after  there  lie. 

((4.  .\  chough  is  a  Itird  of  the  jackdaw  kind. 

05.  Tliis  chiuse  means,  /  mijself  could  breed  a  bird  lo  talk  as  setuiiblij. 


350  The  Tempest 

Sebcus.     Methinks  I  do. 

A7ito.  And  how  does  your  content 

Tender  vour  own  oood  fortune  P®" 

Sebas.  I  remember 

You  did  supplant  your  brother  Prospero. 

Anfo.  True: 

And  look  how  well  my  garments  sit  upon  me; 
]Much  feater*^'  than  before :  my  brother's  servants 
AYere  then  my  fellows;  now  they  are  my  men. 

Sebas.     But,  for  your  conscience — 

Anto.     Ay,  sir;  and  where  lies  that?  if  'twere 
a  kibe,^^ 
'Twould  put  me  to  my  slipper:  but  I  feel  not 
This  deity  in  my  bosom:  twenty  consciences, 
That  stand  'twixt  me  and  Milan,  candied^^  be 

they. 
And  melt,   ere   thev  molest!        Here   lies   vour 

brother, 
No  better  than  the  earth  he  lies  upon, 
If  he  were  that  which  now  he's  like;  whom  I, 
With  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it, 
Can  lay  to  bed  for  ever;  whiles  you,  doing  thus, 
To  the  perpetual  wink''"  for  aye  might  put 
This  ancient  morsel,  this  Sir  Prudence,  who 
Should  not  upbraid  our  course.    For  all  the  rest. 
They'll  take  suggestion''^  as  a  cat  laps  milk; 


66.  This  is  difficult  to  understand.     Perhaps  it  means,  "And  how 
does  your  present  contentment  advance  or  care  for  your  interest.^" 

67.  Feater  means  more  fittingly  or  more  becomingly. 

68.  A  Mhe  is  a  sore  on  the  heel. 

69.  Candied  means  here  the  same  as  crystallized. 

70.  This  means,  while  yon,  doing  the  same  thing,  might  put  Gonzalo 
to  continuous  sleep  forever. 

71.  Suggestion  here  means  temptation. 


The  Tempest  351 

They'll  tell  the  clock  to  any  business  that 
We  say  befits  the  hour." 

Sebas.  Thy  case,  dear  friend, 

Shall  be  my  precedent;  as  thou  gott'st  Milan, 
I'll   come    by   Naples.     Draw   thy    sword:    one 

stroke 
Shall  free  thee  from  the  tribute  which  thou  pay'st; 
And  I  the  King  shall  love  thee. 

Anto.  ,  Draw  together;'-^ 

And  when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  you  the  like, 
To  fall  it  on  Gonzalo. 

Sebas.  O,  but  one  word. 

[They  converse  apart. 

Music.     Re-enter  Ariel,  invisible. 

Ari.     My  master  through  his  art  forsees  the 
danger 
That  you,  his  friend,  are  in;  and  sends  me  forth — 
For  else  his  project  dies — to  keep  thee  living. 

[Siiigs  in  Gonzalo's  ear. 
While  you  here  do  snoring  lie, 
Open-eyed  conspiracy 
His  time  doth  take. 
If  of  life  you  keep  a  care, 
Shake  off  slumber,  and  beware: 
Awake!  awake! 
Anto.     Then  let  us  both  be  sudden. 
Gonza.     [WaJciiig.]  Now,  good  angels 

Preserve    the    King! — [To  Sebas.    a)id    Anto.] 
Why,  how  now! — [ToAlon.]  I Io,  awake! — 

72.  They'll  tell  the  clock  to  ainj  business,  t'to.,  me:uis  Iheii  irill  speak 
any  words  we  tell  tfiem  to. 

73.  Draw  togetlwr  i.s  let  us  draw  our  swords  toi/ethir. 


,S.)>2 


Ttik  Tkmi'kst 


^   ^^  ^  ^-     **       <^  1^   ^  -- 


"awake!    awake!" 


[  To  Sebas.  and  Anto.  ]    Why  are  you  drawn  V^ 
wherefore  this  ghastly  looking  V'' 

74.  That  is,  Why  are  your  swords  drawn? 

75.  This  means.  Why  do  you  look  so  ghastly? 


The  Tempest  353 

Alon.     \}Vakincj.'\  What's  the  matter? 

Sebas.     Whiles  we  stood  here  securing  your 
repose, 
E  i^en  now,  we  heard  a  hollow  burst  of  bellow- 


Like  bulls,  or  rather  lions:  did't  not  wake  you? 
It  struck  mine  ear  most  terribly. 

Alon.  I  heard  nothing. 

Anto.     O,  'twas  a  din   to  fright  a  monster's 
ear, 
To  make  an  earthquake!  sure,  it  was  the  roar 
Of  a  whole  herd  of  lions. 

Alon.  Heard  you  this,  Gonzalo  ? 

Gonza.     Upon   mine  honour,   sir,   I   heard  a 
humming. 
And  that  a  strange  one  too,  which  did  awake 

me: 
I  shaked  you,  sir,  and  cried:  as  mine  eyes  open'd, 
I  saw  their  weapons  drawn :  there  was  a  noise. 
That's  verity.      'Tis  best   we   stand    u]3on  our 

guard. 
Or  that  we  quit  this  place:  let's  draw  our  wea- 
pons. 
Alon.     Lead  oft'  this  ground;  and  let's  make 
further  search 
For  my  poor  son. 

Gonza.    Heavens  keep  him  from  these  beasts! 
For  he  is,  sure,  i'  the  island. 

Alon.  Lead  away. 

[Exit  witli  the  ot/icr.s-. 
Ari.     Prospero  my   lord   shall   know  what    I 
have  done: — 
So,  King,  go  safely  on  to  seek  thy  son.         [K.rit. 


S.)4 


The  Tempest 


Scene  II. — Artother  pari  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Caliban,  ivith  a  burden  of  wood.     A  noise 
of  Thunder  heard. 


The  Tempest  355 

Cal.     x\ll  the  infections  that  the  Sun  sucks  up 
From  bogs,  fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make 

him 
By  inch-meaP  a  disease!     His  spirits  hear  me, 
And  yet  I  needs  must  curse.  But  they'll  nor  pinch, 
Fright  me  with  urchin-shows,^  pitch  me  i'  the 

mire, 
Nor  lead  me,  like  a  fire-brand,^  in  the  dark 
Out  of  my  way,  unless  he  bid  'em :  but 
For  every  trifle  are  they  set  upon  me; 
Sometime^  like  apes,  that  mow^  and  chatter  at  me 
And  after  bite  me;  then  like  hedgehogs,  which 
Lie  tumbling  in  my  barefoot  way,  and  mount 
Their  pricks**  at  my  foot-fall;  sometime  am  I 
All  wound  with  adders,  who  with  cloven  tongues 
Do  hiss  me  into  madness.     Lo,  now,  lo! 
Here  comes  a  spirit  of  his;  and  to  torment  me 
For  bringing  wood  in  slowly.     I'll  fall  flat: 
Perchance  he  will  not  mind  me.' 

Enter  Trixculo. 

Trin.  Here's  neither  bush  nor  shrub,  to  beai 
oft***  any  weather  at  all,  and  another  storm  brew- 

1.  Inch-meal  means  piece-meal. 
i.  Urchin-shows  are  fairy-shows. 

3.  Fire-hraiul  refers  to  vAW  o'  the  wisp,  or  (lanciiif,'  balls  of  light 
seen  soruetinics  at  night  in  swampy  places.  People  used  to  think  these 
lights  were  tended  by  naughty  sprites  who  lured  men  into  trouble. 

4.  We  would  now  say  sometimes. 

.5.  Mow  means  mahe  mouths  or  (jrin. 

().  Pricks,  here,  means  their  prickles  or  sharp  quills. 

7.  Caliban  is  a  monster,  part  brute,  ])art  liinnan,  more  fisli-like  than 
man-like,  probably.  lie  works  only  when  l*ros[)ero  drives  him  lo  il, 
and  he  hales  his  master  Ijitlerly  in  s])ite  of  all  that  the  latter  has  done 
for  him.     Now  Caliban  is  under  ])unishmenl  for  his  wickedness. 

8.  To  hear  off  means  to  keep  off. 


.'^.-lO  Tin;  Tkmpest 

ino;;  I  hear  it  sin"-  i'  tlie  wind:  vond  same  blaek 
cloud,  yoiid  Inline  one.  looks  like  a  foid  bombard" 
I  hat  would  shed  his  hquor.  If  it  should  thunder 
as  it  did  before,  I  know  not  where  to  hide  my 
head :  yond  same  eloud  eannot  ehoose  but  fall  by 
pailfuls. — What  have  we  here  ?  a  man  or  a  fish  ? 
Dead  or  alive?  A  fish:  he  smells  like  a  fish;  a 
very  ancient  and  fish-like  smell;  a  kind  of  not-of- 
the-newest  ])oor-john.^^'  A  strange  fish!  Were  I 
in  Enoland  now,  as  once  I  was,  and  had  but  this 
fish  j^ainted,  not  a  holiday  fool  there  but  would 
give  a  piece  of  silver:  there  would  this  monster 
make  a  man;  any  strange  beast  there  makes  a 
man:'^  when  they  wdll  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve 
a  lame  beggar,  they  will  lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead 
Indian.  Legg'd  like  a  man  I  and  his  fins  like 
arms !  Warm,  o'  m\'  troth !  I  do  now  let  loose  my 
opinion;  hold  it  no  longer:  this  is  no  fish,  but  an 
islander,  that  hath  lately  suffered  by  a  thunder- 
bolt. [Thunder.]  Alas,  the  storm  is  come  again! 
my  best  way  is  to  creep  under  his  gaberdine;'" 
there  is  no  other  shelter  hereabout:  misery  ac- 
([tiaints  a  man  with  strange  bed-fellows.  I  will 
here  shroud  till  the  dregs  of  the  storm  be  past. 

[Creeps  under  Caliban's  garvient. 

Enter  Stkphano,  singing;  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Stepli.  /  shall  no  more  to  sea,  to  sea. 

Here  shall  I  die  ashore; — 

9.  A  bombard  is  a  black  jar  or  jug  to  hold  liquor. 

10.  Foor-john  is  ari  old  name  for  dried  and  salted  hake,  a  kind  of  fish. 

11.  Trinculo  means  that  any  strange  beast  could  be  exhibited  and 
make  a  man's  fortime. 

12.  A  gaberdine  was  a  coar.se  tauter  garment  or  frock. 


The  Tempest  357 

This  IS  a  very  scurvy  tune  to  sing  at  a  man's 
funeral:  well,  here's  my  comfort.  [Drinks. 

[Sings.]     Thr    master^  the   swabbei\^^    the    boat- 
.sivain,  and  i. 
The  gunner,  and  his  mate. 
Loved   Mall,   Meg,   and  Marian,  and 
Margery, 
But  none  of  us  cared  for  Kate; 
For  she  had  a  tongue  with  a  tang,^ ' 
Would  cry  to  a  sailor.  Go  hang ! 
She  loved  not  the  savour   of  tar  nor  of 

jntcJi: 
Then  to  sea,  boys,  and  let  her  go  hang! 

This  is  a  scurvy  tune  too:  but  here's  my  comfort. 

[Drinks. 

Cal.     Do  not  torment  me: — O! 

Steph.  What's  the  matter.?  Have  we  devils 
here  ?  Do  you  put  tricks  upon's  with  savages 
and  men  of  Inde,^'^  ha  ?  I  have  not  'scaped 
drowning,  to  be  afeard  now  of  your  four  legs; 
for  it  hath  been  said,  As  proper  a  man  as  ever 
went  on  four  legs  cannot  make  him  give  ground ; 
and  it  shall  be  said  so  again,  while  Stephano 
breathes  at's   nostrils. 

Cal.     The  spirit  torments  me: — O! 

Steph.  This  is  some  monster  of  the  isle  with 
four  legs,  who  hath  got,  as  I  take  it,  an  ague. 
Where  the  Devil  should  he  learn  our  language  ? 


13.  A  swabber  is  a  man  who  scrubs  tlic  docks  of  a  ship. 

14.  Tang  means  sharp  taste;  here  it  lueaiis  tliat  Kate  spoke  sharply. 

15.  Inde  may  mean  India  as  we  understanrl  it,  t)r  West  IncHa,  that  is, 
America.  Stephano  probal)ly  alhides  to  the  sham  wonders  from  AnKTi<a 
that  were  often  exhibited  by  lyinf;  showmen. 

Vol.  IX.— 24. 


SoS  The  Tempest 

I  will  give  him  some  relief,  if  it  be  but  for  that. 
If  1  can  recover  him,  and  keep  him  tame,  and 
get  to  Naples  with  him,  he's  a  present  for  any 
emperor  that  ever  trod  on  neat's-leather.^' 

Cal.     Do  not  torment  me,  pr'ythee: 
rU  bring  my  wood  home  faster. 

Steph.  He's  in  his  fit  now,  and  does  not  talk 
after  the  wisest.  He  shall  taste  of  my  bottle:  if 
he  have  never  drunk  Avine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to 
remove  his  fit.  If  I  can  recover  him,  and  keep 
him  tame,  I  will  not  take  too  much  for  him;'^ 
he  shall  pay  for  him  that  hath  him,  and  that 
soundly. 

Cal.     Thou  dost  me  yet  but  little  hurt; 
Thou  wilt  anon,  I  know  it  by  thy  trembling: 
Now  Prosper  w^orks  upon  thee. 

Steph.  Come  on  your  w^ays;  open  your 
mouth;  here  is  that  which  will  give  language  to 
you,  cat:"'  open  your  mouth;  this  will  shake  your 
shaking,  I  can  tell  you,  and  that  soundly:  [Gives 
him  drink,]  you  cannot  tell  who's  your  friend; 
open  your  chops  again.     [Gives  him  more  drink. 

Trin.  I  should  know  that  voice:  it  should 
be — but  he  is  drown'd;  and  these  are  devils: — • 
O,  defend  me! 

Steph.  Four  legs,  and  tw^o  voices — a  most 
delicate  monster.^  His  forward  voice  now  is  to 
speak  well  of  his  friend ;  his  backward  voice  is  to 
utter  foul  speeches  and  to  detract.  If  all  the 
wine  in  my  bottle  wall  recover  him,  I  will  help 

16.  Neat's-leather  is  calfskin. 

17.  Stephano  means  that  he  will  take  all  he  can  get. 

18.  He  allud&s  to  an  old  saying,  "Good  liquor  will  make  a  cat  talk." 


The  Tempest  359 

his  ague:  [Gives  him  drink.] — Come, — Amen!^^ 
I  will  pour  some  in  thy  other  mouth. 

Trin.     Stephano ! 

Steph.  Doth  thy  other  mouth  call  me  ? — 
Mercy,  mercy!  This  is  a  devil,  and  no  monster: 
I  will  leave  him;  I  have  no  long  spoon. ^" 

Trin.  Stephano! — If  thou  be'st  Stephano, 
touch  me,  and  speak  to  me;  for  I  am  Trinculo, — 
be  not  afeard, — thy  good  friend  Trinculo. 

Steph.  If  thou  be'st  Trinculo,  come  forth: 
I'll  pull  thee  by  the  lesser  legs:  if  any  be 
Trinculo's  legs,  these  are  they.  [Pulls  Trin- 
culo out.]  Thou  art  very  Trinculo  indeed! 
How  camest  thou  to  be  the  siege^^  of  this  moon- 
calf .^^^ 

Trill.  I  took  him  to  be  kill'd  with  a  thunder- 
stroke. But  art  thou  not  drow^n'd,  Stephano  ? 
I  hope,  now,  thou  art  not  drown'd  ?'^'^  Is  the 
storm  overblown  .^  I  hid  me  under  the  dead 
moon-calf's  gaberdine  for  fear  of  the  storm.  And 
art  thou  living,  Stephano  ?  O  Stephano,  two 
Neapolitans  'sca]:)ed ! 

Steph.  Pr'ythee,  do  not  turn  me  about;  my 
stomach  is  not  constant.^* 


19.  This  is  probably  the  nearest  to  a  i)rayer  tliat  Stephano  can  renieni- 
ber  in  his  fright. 

20.  This  alhules  to  an  old  provcrh,  'lie  tlial  would  eat  with  the  devil 
must  iLse  a  long..s[XJon. 

21.  Siege  here  means  deal. 

22.  A  moon-calf  was  any  shapeless  niDusler;  snpposed  to  be  made  so 
through  the  influence  of  the  moon. 

23.  The  suiKTstitious  Trinculo  is  still  a  hllle  afraid  that  Sfei>hano 
may  l>e  a  ghost. 

24.  Con.ilanI    liere    means    .irfl/nl,    t'lDrii    liis    recent    experiences    in 
the  sea. 


360  The  Tempest 

Cal.     [Aside.]     These  be  fine  things,  an  iP^ 
they  be  not  sprites. 
That's  a  brave  god,  and  bears  celestial  hquor: 
I  will  kneel  to  him. 

Step/i.  How  didst  thou  'scape  ?  How  earnest 
thou  hither.^  swear,  by  this  bottle,  how  thou 
earnest  hither.  I  escaped  upon  a  butt  of  sack,^^ 
which  the  sailors  heaved  o'erboard,  by  this 
bottle!  which  I  made  of  the  bark  of  a  tree  with 
mine  own  hands,  since  I  was  cast  ashore. 

Cal.  I'll  swear,  upon  that  bottle,  to  be  thy 
True  subject;  for  the  liquor  is  not  earthly. 

Steph.  Here;  swear,  man,  how  thou  escap- 
edst. 

Trin.  Sw^am  ashore,  man,  like  a  duck:  I  can 
swim  like  a  duck,  I'll  be  sworn. 

Steph.  Here,  kiss  the  book.  [Gives  liim 
drink.]  Though  thou  canst  swim  like  a  duck, 
thou  art  made  like  a  goose. 

Trin.     O  Stephano,  hast  any  more  of  this  ? 

Steph.  The  whole  butt,  man:  my  cellar  is 
in  a  rock  by  the  sea-side,  where  my  wine  is 
hid.  —  How  now,  moon-calf!  how  does  thine 
ague  t 

Cal.     Hast  thou  not  dropp'd  from  heaven  .^ 

Steph.  Out  o'  the  Moon,  I  do  assure  thee: 
I  was  the  Man-i'-the-moon  when  time  was. 

Cal.     I've  seen  thee  in  her,  and  I  do  adore 
thee : 

25.  The  word  an  may  he  omitted  from  before  if  without  altering 
the  meaning.  Caliban  fears  the  men  may  l>e  e^^l  spirits,  but  thinks 
Stephano  must  he  a  god. 

26.  Sack  is  an  old-fashioned  intoxicating  drink.  \  butt  is  a  big 
cask  holding  about  two  hogsheads. 


The  Tempest  361 

My  mistress  show'd  me  thee,  and  thy  dog,  and 
thy  bush." 

Steph.  Come,  swear  to  that;  kiss  the  book: 
I  will  furnish  it  anon  with  new  contents:  swear. 

[Gives  Caliban  drink. 

Trin.  By  this  good  light,  this  is  a  very  shallow 
monster!  —  I  afeard  of  him!  —  a  very  weak 
monster! — The  Man-i'-the-nwonl — a  most  poor 
credulous  monster! — Well  drawn, ^**  monster,  in 
good  sooth. 

Cal.     I'll  show  thee  every  fertile  inch  o'  the 
island; 
And  I  will  kiss  thy  foot:  I  pr'ythee,  be  my  god. 

Trin.  By  this  light,  a  most  perfidious  and 
drunken  monster!  when  his  god's  asleep,  he'll 
rob  his  bottle. 

Cal.     I'll  kiss  thy  foot;  I'll  swear  myself  thy 
subject. 

Steph.     Come  on  then;  down,  and  swear. 

Trin.  I  shall  laugh  myself  to  death  at  this 
puppy-headed  monster.  A  most  scurvy  mon- 
ster!    I  could  find  in  my  heart  to  beat  him, — 

Steph.     Come,  kiss.        [Gives  Caiaba's  drink. 

Trin. — but  that  the  poor  monster's  in  drink: 
an  abominable  monster! 

Cal.     I'll    show    thee    the    best    springs;    I'll 
pluck  thee  berries; 
I'll  fish  for  thee,  and  get  thee  wood  enough. 
A  plague  upon  the  tyrant  that  I  serve! 

27.  All  these  things  the  fant-iful  used  to  fliiiik  fhey  ronld  sor  in 
the  face  of  the  moon. 

'28.  Tliis  probably  means  that  r'aliban  luul  taken  a  lonjf  li<'aily 
draught  at  the  bottle. 


IK)'^  The  Tempest 

I'll  bear  him  no  more  sticks,  but  follow  thee, 
Thou  wondrous  man. 

Triu.     A  most  ridiculous  monster,  to  make  a 
wonder  of  a  poor  drunkard! 

Cal.     I    pr'ythee.    let    me    bring   thee    where 
crabs  grow; 
And  I  with  my  long  nails  will  dig  thee  pig-nuts;-" 
Show  thee  a  jay's  nest,  and  instruct  thee  how 
To  snare  the  nimble  marmozet:  I'll  brino-  thee 
To  clustering  filberts,  and  sometimes  I'll  get  thee 
Young  staniels^*'  from  the  rock.  Wilt  thou  go  with 
me? 
Steph.     I  pr'ythee  now,  lead  the  way  without 
any  more  talking.      Trinculo,  the  King  and  all 
our  company  else  being  drown'd,  we  will  inherit 
here.     Here,   bear  my  bottle:   fellow  Trinculo, 
we'll  fill  him  by-and-by  again. 

Cal.     [Sijigs    driinkenhj.]     Farewell,    master; 

farewell,  farewell. 
Trin.     A  howling  monster;  a  drunken  mon- 
ster! 
CaL  No  more  dams  I'll  make  for  fish; 

Nor  fetch  in  firing  at  requiring; 
Nor  scrape  trencher,  nor  wash  dish: 
'Ban,  'Ban,  Ca — Caliban 
Has  a  new  master;  get  a  new  man. 

Freedom,  hey-day,  hey-day,  freedom!  freedom, 
hey-day,  freedom! 
Steph.     O  brave  monster!  lead  the  way. 

[Exeunt. 

29.  Pig-nuts  were  probably  ground-nuts,  the  small  bulbous  growths 
on  the  roots  of  certain  vines. 

30.  A  staniel  is  a  Icbutril,  a  beautiful  hawk. 


The  Tempest  363 

ACT  III 

Scene  I. — Before  Prospero's  Cell. 
Enter  Ferdinand,  bearing  a  log. 

IHERE  be  some  sports  are  painful, 

and  their  labour 
Delight   in    them   sets    ofi':^    some 

kinds  of  baseness' 
Are   nobly   undergone;   and   most 

□  n^^V^        poor  matters 
I kdU  Point  to  rich  ends.     This  my  mean 

task  would  be 
As  heavy  to  me  as  'tis  odious,  but 
The  mistress  which  I  serve  quickens  what's  dead. 
And  makes  my  labours  pleasures:^    O,  she  is 
Ten  times  more  g-entle  than  her  father's  crabbed. 
And  he's  composed  of  harshness.     1  must  remove 
Some  thousands  of  these  logs,  and  pile  them  up. 
Upon  a  sore  injunction:  my  sweet  mistress 
Weeps  when  she  sees  me  work;  and  says  such 

baseness 
Had  never  like  executor.     I  forget: 
But  these  sweet  thoughts   do  even  refresh   my 

labour; 
Most  busy  when  I  do  it  least. ^ 

1.  Ferdinand  sajs,  "Some  sports  are  painful,  and  the  delifjht  we  take 
in  them  offsets  the  labor." 

2.  Baseness  here  means  lowliness,  rather  than  anything  base  or  evil. 

3.  Prospero  has  set  Ferdinand  to  carrying  logs,  a  hard  task  and 
a  lowly  one,  to  test  his  love  for  Miranda,  to  find  out  how  manly  he 
really  is. 

4.  The  meaning  of  this  line  })robably  is  that  when  he  works  the 
least  he  is  really  most  wearied  V)e(ause  he  does  not  have  Miranda's 
sympatlietie  words  to  cheer  him,  or  the  sweet  thought  that  he  is  work- 
ing for  her. 


364  The  Tempest 

Enter  Miranda;  and  Prospero  hehiiid. 

Mira.  Alas,   now,   pray  you, 

Work  not  so  hard:  I  would  the  Ughtning  had 
Burnt  up  those  logs  that  you're  enjoin'd  to  pile! 
Pray,  set  it  down,  and  rest  you:  when  this  burns, 
'Twill  weep  for  having  ^vearied  you.     My  father 
Is  hard  at  study;  pray  now,  rest  yourself: 
He's  safe  for  these  three  hours. 

Ferd.  O  most  dear  mistress, 

The  Sun  will  set  before  I  shall  discharge 
What  I  must  strive  to  do. 

Mira.  If  you'll  sit  down, 

I'll  bear  your  logs  the  while:  pray,  give  me  that; 
I'll  carry't  to  the  pile. 

Ferd.  No,  precious  creature; 

I'd  rather  crack  my  sinews,  break  my  back. 
Than  you  should  such  dishonour  undergo. 
While  I  sit  lazy  by. 

Mira.  It  would  become  me 

As  well  as  it  does  you:  and  I  should  do  it 
With  much  more  ease;  for  my  good  will  is  to  it. 
And  yours  it  is  against. 

Pros.    [Aside.]   Poor  worm,  thou  art  infected! 
This  visitation  shows  it. 

Mira.  You  look  wearily. 

Ferd.     No,  noble  mistress;  'tis  fresh  morning 
with  me 
When  you  are  by  at  night.     I  do  beseech  you, — 
Chiefly  that  I  might  set  it  in  my  prayers, — 
What  is  your  name  ? 

Mira.  Miranda — O  my  father, 

I've  broke  your  hest  to  say  so! 

Ferd.  Admired  Miranda! 


The  Tempest  365 

Indeed  the  top  of  admiration;  worth 
What's  dearest  to  the  world !     Full  many  a  lady 
I've  eyed  with  best  regard;  and  many  a  time 
The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bond- 
age _ 
Brought  my  too  diligent  ear:  for  several  virtues 
Have  I  liked  several  women;  never  any 
With  so  full  soul,  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  owed, 
And  put  it  to  the  foil:^  but  you,  O  you, 
So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best! 

Mira.  I  do  not  know 

One  of  my  sex;  no  woman's  face  remember, 
Save,   from    my   glass,   mine   own;   nor  have   I 

seen 
More  that  I  may  call  men,  than  you,  good  friend. 
And  my  dear  father:  how  features  are  abroad, 
I'm  skilless  of;  but,  by  my  modesty, — 
The  jewel  in  my  dower, — I  would  not  wish 
Any  companion  in  the  world  but  you; 
Nor  can  imagination  form  a  shape. 
Besides  yourself,  to  like  of.     But  I  prattle 
Something  too  wildly,  and  my  father's  j)ro('cpts 
I  therein  do  forget. 

Ferd.  I  am,  in  my  condition, 

A  prince,  Miranda;  I  do  think,  a  king, — 
I  w^ould,  not  so!^ — and  would  no  more  endure 
This  wooden  slavery  than  to  sufTer 


5.  Put  it  to  the  foil,  means  put  it  on  the  defensive.     Foil  was  a  <,'«'iioral 
name  for  swords. 

6.  Ferdinand  tliinks  liis  father  lias  hocn  drowncfl,  h\\\  wishes  it  wore 
not  so,  even  though  he  is  thereby  made  King. 


366  The  Tempest 

The  flesh-fly  })low^  my  mouth.      Hear  my  soul 

speak: 
The  very  instant  that  I  saw  you,  did 
My  heart  fly  to  your  service;  there  resides, 
To  make  me  slave  to  it;  and  for  your  sake 
Am  I  this  patient  log-man. 

Mira.  Do  you  love  me  ? 

Ferd.     O  Heaven,  O  Earth,  bear  witness  to 
this  sound. 
And  crown  what  I  profess  with  kind  event, 
If  I  speak  true!  if  hollowly,'^  invert 
What  best  is  boded  me  to  mischief!     I, 
Beyond  all  limit  of  what  else**  i'  the  world, 
Do  love,  prize,  honour  you. 

Mira.  I  am  a  fool 

To  weep  at  what  I'm  glad  of. 

Pros.     [Aside.]  Fair  encounter 

Of    two    most    rare  affections!      Heavens  rain 

grace 
On  that  which  breeds  between  them! 

Ferd.  Wherefore  weep  you  ? 

Mira.     At  mine  unworthiness,  that  dare  not 
oft'er 
What  I  desire  to  give;  and  much  less  take 
What  I  shall  die  to  want.^"     But  this  is  trifling; 
And  all  the  more  it  seeks  to  hide  itself, 
The    bigger    bulk    it    shows.     Hence,    bashful 

cunning! 
And  prompt  me,  plain  and  holy  innocence! 

7.  The  flesh-fly  is  the  blow-fly,  which  lays  its  eggs  in  meat  and 
helps  its  decay. 

8.  Hollowly  here  means  falsely. 

9.  We  would  now  say,  "Whatsoever  else." 

10.  Instead  of  to  want,  we  would  say /row  wanting. 


The  Tempest 


367 


I    AM    YOtTR    WIFE,    IF    TOU    WIIJ.   MAKUY    ME. 

I  am  your  wife,  if  you  will  marry  me; 

If  not,  I'll  die  your  maid :  lo  l)e  your  fellow'' 

You  mav  deny  rne;  bul  I'll  he  your  servant- 


11.  Fellow   here   means   eqrial. 


:U)8  The  Tk.mpest 

Whether  you  will  or  no. 

Ferd.  My  mistress,  dearest. 

And  I  thus  humble  ever. 

Mira.  My  husband,  then  ? 

Ferd.     Ay,  with  a  heart  as  willing 
As  bonda":e'"  e'er  of  freedom:  here's  mv  hand. 

Mira.     And   mine,   with   my  heart  in't:   and 
now  farewell 
Till  half  an  hour  hence. 

Ferd.  A  thousand  thousand!'^ 

[Exeunt  Ferdinand  and  Miranda. 

Pros.     So  glad  of  this  as  they,  I  cannot  be, 
Who  am  surprised  withal  ;^*  but  my  rejoicing 
At  nothing  can  be  more.     I'll  to  my  book; 
For  yet,  ere  supper-time,  must  I  perform 
Much  business  appertaining.  [Exit. 

Scene  II, — Another  part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Caliban,  Stephano,  and  Trinculo,  witli 
a  bottle. 

Steph.  Tell  not  me:  when  the  butt  is  out,  w^e 
will  drink  w-ater;  not  a  drop  before:  therefore 
bear  up,  and  board  'em.^ — Servant-monster, 
drink  to  me. 

Tri7i.  Servant-monster!  the  folly  of  this 
island!     They  say  there's  but  five  upon  this  isle: 

12.  Bondman  may  be  rcuil  for  botidage.  He  accepts  her  as  williiif^Iy 
as  a  slave  ever  accepted  freedom. 

13.  "A  thousand  thousand /are  we//*." 

14-  Prospero  desires  Ferdinand  to  love  aud  marry  ^liranda  and  has 
planned  for  it,  but  he  is  surprised  at  the  suddenness  and  strength  of 
their  love. 

1.  .\s  in  a  naval  battle  one  ship  runs  alongside  another,  and  the 
sailors  leap  aboard. 


The  Tempest  369 

we  are  three  of  them;  if  th' other  two  be  l)raiir(l 
Hke  us,  the  State  totters. 

Steph.  Drink,  servant-monster,  when  I  hid 
thee:  thy  eyes  »re  almost  set'  in  thy  head. 

[Caliban  drinks. 

Trin.  Where  should  they  be  set  else  ?  he  were 
a  brave  monster  indeed,  if  they  were  set  in  his  tail. 

Steph.  My  man-monster  hath  drown'd  his 
tongue  in  sack:  for  my  part,  the  sea  cannot 
drown  me;  I  swam,  ere  I  could  recover  the  shore, 
five-and-thirty  leagues,  off  and  on,  by  this  light. — - 
Thou  shalt  be  my  lieutenant,  monster,  or  my 
standard.^ 

Trin.  Your  lieutenant,  if  you  list;  he's  no 
standard.* 

Steph.     We'll  not  run,  Monsieur  Monster. 

Trin.  Nor  go  neither:  but  you'll  lie  like  dogs, 
and  yet  say  nothing  neither. 

Steph.  Moon-calf,  speak  once  in  thy  life,  if 
thou  be'st  a  good  moon-calf. 

Cal.  How  does  thy  Honour.^  Let  me  lick 
thy  shoe.     I'll  not  serve  him,  he  is  not  valiant. 

Trin.  Thou  liest,  most  ignorant  monster:  T 
am  in  case  to  justle  a  constal)lc.'  Why,  thou 
debosh'd^  fish,  thou,  was  there  ever  man  a  coward 
that  hath  drunk  so  much  sack  as  1  to-day  f  Wilt 
thou  tell  a  monstrous  lie,  being  but  half  a  fish 
and  half  a  monster  ? 


2.  Set  means  fixed  and  staring. 

3.  Standard  may  he  read  staiidard-lyearer. 

\.  Triiirulo  means  tlial  Caliban  is  too  drunk  to  stand. 
5.  Trinculo  is  always  jostinf(,  even  at  liis  own  p.\|)ctisc.     \\r  means 
he  is  so  drnnk  lie  would  |)i(k  a  (|uarrel  with  a  cotistalilc. 
li.   J)el)<).sh'il  Mwnns  (Irhaiiclted. 


J570  The  Tempest 

Cal.  Lo,  hoAv  he  mocks  me!  wilt  thou  let  him, 
my  lord  ? 

Trin.  Lord,  quoth  he.  That  a  monster 
should  be  such  a  natural ! ' 

Cal.  Lo,  lo,  again!  bite  him  to  death,  I 
pr'ythee. 

Steph.  Trinculo,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  your 
head:  if  you  prove  a  mutineer, — the  next  tree.^ 
The  poor  monster's  my  subject,  and  he  shall  not 
suffer  indignity. 

Cal.     I  thank  my  noble  lord.     Wilt  thou  be 
pleased 
To  hearken  once  again  the  suit  I  made  thee  ? 

Steph.  Marry,  will  I:  kneel,  and  repeat  it;  I 
will  stand,  and  so  shall  Trinculo. 

Enter  Ariel,  invisible. 

Cal.  As  I  told  thee  before,  I  am  subject  to  a 
tyrant;  a  sorcerer,  that  by  his  cunning  hath 
cheated  me  of  the  island. 

Ari.     Thou  liest.^ 

Cal.        Thou  liest,  thou  jesting  monkey,  thou : 
I  would  my  valiant  master  would  destroy  thee ! 
T  do  not  lie. 

Steph.  Trinculo,  if  you  trouble  him  any 
more  in's  tale,  by  this  hand,  I  will  supplant  some 
of  your  teeth. 

Trin.     ^Miy,  I  said  nothing. 

Steph.     Mum,  then,  and  no  more. — 

[To  Cal.]     Proceed. 

7.  A  natural  is  a  fool  or  a  simpleton. 

8.  Stephano  means  "You  shall  be  hanged  on  the  next  tree." 

9.  As  Ariel  is  invisible,  each  thinks  another  has  spoken. 


The  Tempest  371 

Cat.     I  say,  bv  sorcery  he  got  this  isle; 
From  me  he  got  it.     If  thy  Greatness  will 
Revenge  it  on  him, — for,  I  know,  thou  darest. 
But  this  thing^"  dare  not, — 

Steph.  That's  most  certain. 

Cal. — Thou  shalt  be  lord  of  it,  and  I  will  serve 
thee. 

Steph.  How  now  shall  this  be  compass'd  f 
Canst  thou  bring  me  to  the  party  ? 

Cal.     Yea,  yea,  iny  lord;  I'll  yield  him  thee 
asleep. 
Where  thou  mayst  knock  a  nail  into  his  head. 

Ari.     Thou  liest;  thou  canst  not. 

Cal.     What    a    pied    ninny's^^     this! — Thou 
scurvy  patch  !^^ — 
I  do  beseech  thy  Greatness,  give  him  blows. 
And  take  his  bottle  from  him;  when  that's  gone, 
He  shall  drink  nought  but  brine;  for  I'll  not  show 

him 
Where  the  quick  freshes'^  are. 

Steph.  Trinculo,  run  into  no  further  danger: 
interrupt  the  monster  one  word  further,  and,  by 
this  hand,  I'll  turn  my  mercy  out  of  doors,  and 
make  a  stock-fish"  of  thee. 

Trin.  Why,  what  did  I  .^  I  did  nothing. 
I'll  go  further  off. 

10.  "This  thing"   is   ('alil)aii   liiiiLscH". 

11.  The  court  fools  or  jesters  of  that  day  wtjie  clidhes  of  many 
colors — were  pied,  that  is,  dappled. 

12.  Patch  is  another  word  referring,'  to  the  parti-c^oloretl  clotliiiit4 
of  the  jester. 

1.3.  The  (piick  freshes  are  the  nmniiig  spring.s  of  fresh  water. 

14.  Ht(Kk-fish  is  a  word  used  in  the  writings  <jf  that  pcricMl  to  mean 
.some  kind  of  a  fixture,  which  men  .struck  with  llicir  fists  or  with  cudj^els 
in  practicing  boxing  and  Bgbting. 


'M^2  TiiK  Tempest 

Sicp/i.     Didst  thou  not  say  he  lied? 

Ari.     Thou  Hest. 

Steplt.  Do  I  so?  take  thou  that.  [Strikes 
Jiim.]  As  you  Uke  this,  give  me  the  Ue  another 
time. 

Trin.  I  did  not  give  thee  the  he.  Out  o' 
your  wits  and  hearing  too  ?  A  pox  o'  your  bottle! 
this  can  sack  and  drinking  do.  A  murrain  on 
your  monster,  and  the  Devil  take  your  fingers ! 

Cal.     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Steph.  Now,  forw^ard  with  your  tale. — Pr'y- 
thee  stand  further  off.^^ 

Cal.     Beat  him  enough :  after  a  little  time, 
I'll  beat  him  too. 

Steph.     Stand  further. — Come,  proceed. 

Cal.     AVhy,  as  I  told  thee,  'tis  a  custom  with 
him 
I'  the  afternoon  to  sleep:  then  thou  mayst  brain 

him. 
Having  first  seized  his  books;  or  with  a  log 
Batter  his  skull,  or  paunch  him  with  a  stake. 
Or  cut  his  weazand^®  with  thy  knife.     Remem- 
ber 
First  to  possess  his  books;  for  without  them 
He's  but  a  sot,*'  as  I  am,  nor  hath  not 
One  spirit  to  command:  they  all  do  hate  him 
As  rootedly  as  I.     Burn  but  his  books. 
He  has  brave***  utensils, — for  so  he  calls  them, — 


15.  Stephano  speaks  first  to  Caliban,  then  to  Trinculo. 
Hi.  The  weazand  is  the  windpipe  or  throat. 

17.  Sot  in  this  place  means  fool,  not  drunkard.  Caliban  thinks 
Prospero's  books  are  the  .source  of  his  uiaj^ic  power  over  such  spirits 
as  Ariel  and  those  he  commands 

18.  Brave  here  means  heantifnl  or  showy. 


The  Tempest  S7.S 

Which,  when  he  has  a  house,  he'll  deck't  withal: 

And  that  most  deeply  to  consider  is 

The  beauty  of  his  daughter;  he  himself 

Calls  her  a  nonpareil:  I  ne'er  saw  woman, 

But  only  Sycorax  my  dam  and  she; 

But  she  as  far  surpasseth  Sycorax 

As  great'st  does  least. 

Steph.  Is  it  so  brave  a  lass  ? 

Cal.     Ay,  lord. 

Steph.  Monster,  I  will  kill  this  man:  his 
daughter  and  I  will  be  king  and  queen, — save 
our  Graces! — and  Trinculo  and  thyself  shall 
be  viceroys. — Dost  thou  like  the  plot,  Trin- 
culo ? 

Trill.     Excellent. 

Steph.  Give  me  thy  hand:  I  am  sorry  I  beat 
thee;  but,  while  thou  livest,  keep  a  good  tongue 
in  thy  head. 

Cal.  Within  this  half-hour  will  he  be  asleep : 
Wilt  thou  destroy  him  then  ? 

Steph.     Ay,  on  mine  honour. 

AH.     This  will  I  tell  my  master.'' 

Cal.     Thou  makest  me  merry;  I  am  full  of 
pleasure : 
Let  us  be  jocund:  will  you  troll  the  catch'-'" 
You  taught  me  but  while-ere  ?'^^ 

Steph.  At  thy  request,  monster,  1  will  do 
reason,^'^  any  reason. — Come  on,  l^iinculo,  lot 
us  sing.  [Sinys. 

19.  This  speech  of  Ariel's  is  iiuuie  usitii-,  that  is,  mit  of  hearing  of 
thf  three  conspirators. 

'20.   Troll  the  catch  nu'nu>,  -limi  thr  jullij  .idiiij. 

!21.  While-eri'  iiieuns  awhile  sitice. 

S'-J.   "I  will  do  .iiiythiiig  reasonable,"  says  Sti-plian«i. 

Vol.  IX.     25. 


S74 


The  Tempest 


ARIEL    PL.\YS   THE   TUNE 


Flout   'em  and   scout   'em,   and   scout   'em   and 

flout  'em; 
Thought  is  free. 

Cal.     That's  not  the  tune. 


The  Tempest  375 

[Ariel  plays  the  tune  on  a  tabor  and  pipe. 

Steph.     Wliat  is  this  same  ?-^ 

Trin.  This  is  the  tune  of  our  catch,  play'd 
by  the  picture  of  Nobody.-* 

Steph.  If  thou  be'st  a  man,  show  thyself  in 
thy  hkeness:  if  thou  be'st  a  devil, — take't  as  thou 
list.-^ 

Trin.     O,  forgive  me  my  sins! 

Steph.  He  that  dies  pays  all  debts:  I  defy 
thee. — Mercy  upon  us! 

Cal.     Art  thou  afeard  ? 

Steph.     No,  monster,  not  I. 

Cal.  Be  not  afeard;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises. 
Sounds  and  sweet  airs  that  give  delight  and  hurt 

not. 
Sometime-®  a  thousand  twangling  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears;  and  sometime  voices, 
That,  if  I  then  had  waked  after  long  sleep, 
Will  make  me  sleep  again:  and  then,  in  dream- 
ing, 
The  clouds  methought  would  open,  and  show 

riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me;  that,  when  I  waked, 
I  cried  to  dream  again. 

Steph.  This  will  prove  a  brave  kingdom  to 
me,  where  I  shall  have  my  music  for  nothing. 

Cal.     Wlien  Prospero  is  destroy 'd. 

23.  "What  is  this  music  I  hear?" 

24.  A  common  sign  in  those  times  was  calle<l  the  picture  of  N()l)0<ly. 
It  consisted  of  a  head  upon  two  legs,  with  arms. 

25.  Stephano  i)robably  means,  "Take  a  blow  from  my  fist,"  anti 
speaks  to  the  invisiljle  spirit  or  devil  that  he  now  thinks  to  be  near  tlieni, 
becavise  of  Ariel's  curious  interruptions. 

20.  Sontetiine  is  again  used  for  sometiimn. 


:J7()  The  Tempest 

Sic  ph.  That  sliall  be  by-and-bv:  I  remember 
the  story. 

Cat.  The  sound  is  going  away;  let's  follow  it. 
And  after  do  our  work. 

StcpJi.  Lead,  monster;  we'll  follow. — I  would 
I  eould  see  this  taborer!  he  lays  it  on. — Wilt  come  ? 

Trin.     I'll  follow,  Stephano.  [Exeu7it 

Scene  III. — AnotJier  pari  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Aloxso,  Sebastiax,  Antonio,  Gonzalo, 
Adrian,  Francisco,  and  Others. 

Gonza.  By'r  lakin,^  I  can  go  no  further,  sir; 
My  old  bones  ache:  here's  a  maze  trod,  indeed. 
Through  forth-rights^  and  meanders  P  by  your 

patience, 
I  needs  must  rest  me. 

Alon.  Old  lord,  I  cannot  blame  thee, 

Who  am  myself  attach'd  with^  weariness, 
To  til'  dulling  of  my  spirits:  sit  ddwn,  and  rest. 
Even  here  I  will  put  oft'  my  hope,  and  keep  it 
No  longer  for  my  flatterer:  he  is  drown'd 
AMiom  thus  we  stray  to  find;  and  the  sea  mocks 
Our  frustrate^  search  on  land.     Well,  let  him  go. 

Anto.     [Aside  to  Sebas.]  I  am  right  glad  that 
he's  so  out  of  hope. 
Do  not,  for  one  repulse,  forgo  the  purpose 
That  you  resolved  t'  effect. 

1.  By  our  lady!  was  a  common  exclamation.  A  diminutive  form  of 
this  was  by  our  ladykin  which  was  contracted  into  by  our  lakiii. 

2.  Forth-rights  are  straight  hnes. 

3.  Meanders  are  crooked  Hnes. 

4.  Attach'd  with  means  seized  by. 

5.  Frustrate  means  defeated  or  baffled. 


The  Tempest  377 

Sehas.     [Aside  to  Anto.]     The  next  advantage 
Will  we  take  throughly.^ 

Aiito.     [Aside  to  Sebas.]     Let  it  be  to-night. 
For,  now  they  are  oppress'd  with  travel,  they 
Will  not,  nor  cannot,  use  such  vigilance 
As  when  they're  fresh. 

Sebas.     [Aside  to  Anto.]      I  say,  to-night:  no 
more.  [Solemn  and  strange  music. 

Alon.     What    harmony    is    this  .^     My    good 
friends,  hark! 

Gonza.     Marvellous  sweet  music! 

Enter  Prospero  above,  invisible.  Enter,  below, 
several  strange  SJiapes,  bringing  in  a  Banquet: 
they  dance  about  it  with  gentle  actions  of 
salutation;  and,  inviting  the  King,  &c.,  to 
eat,  theij  depart, 

Alon.     Give    us    kind    keepers,    Heavens! — 

What  were  these  ? 
Sebas.     A  living  drollery.^     Now  I  will  believe 
That  there  are  unicorns;  that  in  Arabia 
There    is    one    tree,    the    ])hoenix'  throne;^    one 

phoenix 
At  this  hour  reigning  there. 

A7ito.  I'll  believe  both : 


6.  Throurjhly  means  the  same  as  t.hwiKjh.  Sebastian  means  tliat 
the  next  time  he  will  carry  his  purj>ose  through. 

7.  A  drollery  was  an  amusinfj  show  of  the  Punch  and  Judy  kind, 
where  the  characters  were  puppets.  In  a  living  droller}-,  the  characters 
would  be  alive  instead  of  puppets. 

8.  The  phcenix  was  a  fal>led  bird  of  anti<iuily  wliich  lived  a  hundred 
years  and  then  flied  in  flames,  only  to  rise  youm^  and  stronjj  a<;ain  from 
its  ashes.  There  was  but  one  such  bird  in  the  world,  and  somewhere 
in  Arabia  was  a  tree,  different  from  any  otiier  in  the  world,  in  which  the 
pha-nix  built  its  nest. 


878  The  Tempest 

And  what  does  else  want  credit,  come  to  me, 
And  I'll  be  sworn  'tis  true:  travellers  ne'er  did  lie, 
Though  fools  at  home  condemn  'em. 

Gonza.  If  in  Naples 

I  should  report  this  now,  would  they  believe  me  ? 
If  I  should  say  I  saw  such  islanders, — 
For,  certes,^  these  are  people  of  the  island, — 
Who,  though  they  are  of  monstrous  shape,  yet, 

note. 
Their  manners  are  more  gentle-kind  than  of 
Our  human  generation  you  shall  find 
Many,  nay,  almost  any. 

Pros.     [Aside.]  Honest  lord, 

Thou  hast  said  well ;  for  some  of  you  there  present 
Are  worse  than  devils. 

Alon.  I  cannot  too  much  muse'^ 

Such  shapes,  such  gesture,  and  such  sound,  ex- 
pressing— 
Although  thev  want  the  use  of  tongue — a  kind 
Of  excellent  dumb  discourse. 

Pros.     [Aside.]  Praise  in  departing.*^ 

Fran.     They  vanish'd  strangely. 

Sebas.  No  matter,  since 

Thev've  left  their  viands  behind:  for  we  have 

stomachs. — 
Will't  please  you  taste  of  what  is  here  ? 

Alon.  Not  I. 

Gonza.     Faith,  sir,  you  need  not  fear.     When 
we  were  bovs. 


9.  Certes  means  for  a  certainty. 

10.  Muse  here  means  wonder  at. 

11.  Probably  Prospero  alludes  to  an  old  saying  which  meant,  "Do 
not  praise  your  banquet  too  soon;  wait  till  it  is  over." 


The  Tempest  379 

Who  would  believe  that  there  were  mountaineers 
Dew-lapp'd  like  bulls,  whose  throats  had  hang- 
ing at  'em 
Wallets  of  flesh  ?  or  that  there  were  such  men 
^Vhose  heads  stood  in  their  breasts  ?^^  which  now 

we  find, 
Each  putter-out  of  one  for  five'^  will  bring  us 
Good  warrant  of. 

Alon.  I  will  stand  to,  and  feed. 

Although  my  last:  no  matter,  since  I  feel 
The  best  is  past. — Brother,  my  lord  the  Duke, 
Stand  to,  and  do  as  we. 

Thunder  and  lightning.  Enter  Ariel,  like  a 
harpy;  claps  his  wings  upon  the  table;  and,  by 
a  quaint  device,  the  banquet  vanishes. 

Ari.     You  are  three  men  of  sin.  whom  Des- 
tiny— 
That  hath  to  instrument"  this  lower  world 


12.  Amonfi;  the  strange  shapes  that  flanc-e<l  about  the  banquet  were 
deformed  men  from  whose  throats  the  ficsh  hung  down  in  huge  pockets, 
like  goitres,  and  others  whose  hef.cls  grew  from  their  breasts  without 
neck  and  shoulders. 

13.  Sometimes  in  Shakespeare's  days  they  practiced  a  curious  kind 
of  insurance.  If  a  man  were  going  on  a  long  journey,  he  put  out  in 
the  hands  of  agents  a  sum  of  money,  tuidcr  the  agreement  that  if  he 
returned  he  was  to  have  a  certain  number  of  times  the  money  he  put  out. 
If  the  journey  was  perilous,  the  agreement  might  call  for  6ve  times  the 
sum;  if  a  safer  journey,  perhaps  twice  the  amount.  If  the  traveler  did 
not  return,  the  agents  kept  the  sum  put  out.  Gonzalo  uses  the  phrase 
''Each  putter-out  of  one  for  jive,"  to  mean  each  man  who  goes  on  a  perilous 
journey.  lie  means  that  every  traveler  returning  vouches  for,  or  gives 
goofl  warrant  for,  the  wonders  he  has  seen. 

14.  Instead  of  That  hath  to  imtrumcnt,  we  might  read  That  has 
control  of.  The  whole  sentence  means:  "You  are  three  sinful  men 
whom  Destiny,  that  rules  this  lower  world  and  what  is  in  it,  has  caused 
the  never-surfeited  sea  to  throw  on  shore;  yes,  and  on  this  island  wliich 
man  does  not  inhabit;  you  who  are  among  men  the  most  unfit  to  live." 


380  The  T  km  pest 

Aiul  what  is  in't — tlic  never-surt't'ited  sea 
Hath  caused  to  belch  up;  yea,  and  on  this  island 
Where  man  doth  not  inhabit;  you  'mongst  men 
Being  most  unfit  to  live.      I've  made  you  mad; 
And  even  with  such  like  valour  men  hang  and 

drown 
Their  proper  selves. 

[Seeing  Alox.,  Sebas,,  <tc.,  draw  fheir  swords. 

You  fools!  I  and  my  fellows 

Are  ministers  of  Fate:  the  elements, 

Of  whom  your  swords  are  temper'd,  may  as  well 

Wound    the    loud    winds,  or  with  bemock'd-at 

stabs 
Kill  the  still-closing^^  w^aters,  as  diminish 
One   dowle^^  that's  in   my  plume:   my   fellow- 
ministers 
Are  like  invulnerable.     If  you  could  hurt, 
Your    swords    are    now    too    massy    for    your 

strengths, 
And  Avill  not  be  uplifted.     But  remember, — 
For  that's  my  business  to  you, — that  you  three 
From  INlilan  did  supplant  good  Prospero; 
Exposed  unto  the  sea,  which  hath  requit^^  it. 
Him  and  his  innocent  child :  for  which  foul  deed 
The  powers,  delaying,  not  forgetting,  have 
Incensed    the    seas    and    shores,    yea,    all    the 

creatures. 
Against  your  peace.     Thee  of  thy  son,  Alonso, 
They  have  bereft;  and  do  pronounce,  by  me, 

15.  Water  closes  immediately  over  any  cut  made  in  it. 

16.  Dowle  means  down,  and  the  comparison   means,  as  cut  off  a 
simile  thread  of  down  from  my  plumes. 

17.  Reqnit  means  here  revenged. 


The  Tempest  381 

Lingering  perdition — worse  than  any  death 

Can  be  at  once — shall  step  by  step  attend 

You  and  your  \yays ;  \vhose^  ^  wraths  to  guard  you 

from, — 
Which  here,  in  this  most  desolate  isle,  else  falls 
Upon  your  heads, — is  nothing,  but  heart-sorrow 
And  a  clear  life  ensuing. 

He  vanishes  in  thunder;  tlien^  to  soft  music, 
enter  the  Shapes  again,  and  dance  with  mocks 
and  moives,  and  carry  out  the  table . 

Pros.     [Aside.]     Bravely    the    figure    of    this 
harpy  hast  thou 
Perform'd,   my  Ariel;   a  grace  it  had,  deyour- 

ing: 
Of  my  instruction  hast  thou  nothing  'bated 

In  what  thou  hadst  to  say:  so,  with  good  life. 

And  observation  strange,  my  meaner  ministers 

Their    several    kinds    have    done.^**     My    high 

charms  work, 
And  these  mine  enemies  are  all  knit  up 
In    their    distractions:    they    now^    are    in    my 

power; 
And  in  these  fits  I  leave  them,  while  I  visit 
Young     Ferdinand, — who     they     suppose     is 

drown'd, — 
And  his  and  my  loved  darling.     [Exit  from  above. 

18.  Whose  refers  lo  the  word  powers  six  lines  before.  The  meaning 
of  the  remainder  of  Ariel's  speeeh  is  as  follows:  "Xolhin;^  but  repentance 
and  a  clear  life  hereafter  can  guard  you  from  the  wrath  that  otherwise 
will  fall  upon  your  heads  in  this  desolate  isle." 

19.  The  nieanin}^  of  the  f)rece(ling  clause  is:  "Thus  with  the  skill 
of  life  and  keen  observance  of  the  ways  of  men,  my  humbler  sf-rvanl'i 
have  flone  their  work,  each  according  to  his  nature  or  kind," 


38^2  The  Tempest 

Gonza.     V  the  name  of  something  holy,  sir, 
why  stand  you 
In  this  strange  stare? 

Alon.  O,  it  is  monstrous,  monstrous ! 

Methought    the   billows  spoke,  and  told  me  of 

it;-" 
The  winds  did  sing  it  to  me;  and  the  thunder. 
That  deep  and  dreadful  organ  pipe,  pronounced 
The    name    of    Prosper:    it    did   bass   my   tres- 
pass.-' 
Therefore  my  son  i'  the  ooze  is  bedded;"  and 
I'll  seek  him  deeper  than  e'er  plummet  sounded. 
And  with  him  there  lie  mudded.-^  [Exit. 

Sebas.  But  one  fiend  at  a  time, 

I'll  fight  their  legions  o'er. 

Anto  I'll  be  thy  second. 

[Exeunt  Sebastian  and  Antonio. 
Gonza.     All  three  of  them  are  desperate:  their 
great  guilt. 
Like  poison  given  to  work  a  long  time  after,^^ 
Now    'gins   to  bite   the   spirits. — I    do   beseech 

you, 
That  are  of  suppler  joints,  follow  them  swiftly, 
And  hinder  them  from  what  this  ecstasy- 
May  now  provoke  them  to. 

Adri.  Follow,  I  pray  you.     [Exeunt. 

20.  It  refers  to  his  sin  against  Prospero. 

21.  That  is:  "It  sang  my  misdeed  in  a  terrible  bass." 

22.  This  clause  means:  "My  son  sleeps  in  the  ooze  on  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean." 

23.  Mudded   means   buried    in    mud.     Alonso   threatens    to   drown 
himself. 

24.  There  are  said  to  l^e  jjoisons  which  will  not  work  until  a  long 
time  after  a  person  takes  them. 

25.  For  ecstasy,  read  fit  of  madness. 


The  Tempest  388 

ACT  IV 

Scene  I. — Before  Prospero's   Cell. 

Enter  Prospero,   Ferdinand,   and   Miranda. 
Prospero  speaks. 

F  I  have  too  austerely  j^unish'd  you. 
Your  compensatiou  makes  amends; 

for  I 
Have   given   }ou    here    a    thread    of 

mine  own  Hfe, 
Or  that  for  which  I  live;  who  once 
again 

I  tender  to  thy  hand:  all  thy  vexations 
Were  but  my  trials  of  thy  love,  and  thou 
Hast  strangely  stood  the  test:  here,  afore  Heaven, 
I  ratify  this  my  rich  gift.     O  Ferdinand, 
Do  not  smile  at  me  that  I  boast  her  off. 
For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise 
And  make  it  halt  behind  her. 

Fe?'d.  1  do  })elieve  it 

Against  an  oracle. 

Pros.     Then,  as  mv  oift,  and   thine  own  ac- 
quisition 
Worthily    ])urchased.   take    my    daughter,  thou. 
Sit,  then,  and  talk  with  her;  she  is  thine  own. — 
What,  Ariel  I  my  industrious  servant,  Ariel! 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ari.     What  would  my  potent  master.^  here 

I  am. 
Pros.     Thou  and  thy  meaner  fellows  your  last 

service 


384 


The  T  km  pest 


"she  will  outstrip  all  praise." 

Did  worthily  perform;  and  I  must  use  you 
In  such  another  trick.     Go  bring  the  rabble, 
O'er  whom  I  give  thee  power,  here,  to  this  place; 
Incite  them  to  quick  motion;  for  I  must 


The  Tempest  385 

Bestow  upon  the  eyes  of  this  young  couple 
Some  vanity^  of  mine  art:  it  is  my  promise. 
And  they  expect  it  from  me. 

Ari.  Presently  ? 

Pros.     Ay,  with  a  twink.^ 
Ari.     Before  you  can  say  Come  and  Go, 
And  breathe  twice,  and  cry  So,  so. 
Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe. 
Will  be  here  with  mop^  and  mow.* 
Do  you  love  me,  master  ? — no  ?  [Exit. 
Pros.    Now  come,  my  Ariel !  bring  a  corollary,^ 
Rather  than  want  a  spirit:  appear,  and  pertly!" 
No  tongue;  all  eyes;  be  silent. 

[Soft  music. 

Enter  Iris.' 

Iris.    Ceres,^  most  bounteous  lady,  thy  rich  leas 

Of  wheat,  rye,  barley,  vetches,  oats,  and  peas; 

Thy  turfy  mountains,  where  live  nibbling  sheep. 

And  flat  meads  thatch'd  with  stover,''  them  to 

keep ; 

1.  Vanity  probably  means  fine  display. 

2.  With  a  twink  means  in  t/w  tmnklincj  of  an  eye. 

3.  Mop  means  chattering. 

4.  Mow  means  viakimj  faces.  Mop  and  mow  were  words  apiilied 
to  such  chatterin<(  and  grinning  as  a  monkey  makes. 

5.  A  corollary  here  means  more  than  enough. 

6.  Pertly   means   alertly. 

7.  Iris  was  the  fleet  messenger  of  the  Greek  gods.  She  hud  beautiful 
golden  wings,  and  as  she  flew  across  the  heavens,  she  left  the  many- 
colored  rainbow  as  her  trail. 

8.  Ceres  was  the  Greek  goddess  of  the  earth,  who  especially  watched 
over  the  growth  of  grain  and  fruits.  She  it  is  who  brings  rich  harvests, 
or  when  her  attention  is  called  away,  permits  drought  to  kill  the  vege- 
tation. 

9.  Htover  is  fodder.  A  mead  thatched  with  stover  is  a  meadow 
covered  with  rich  grass  and  hay. 


386 


The  Tempest 


'DO    rOU    LOVE  ME,   ^L\J8TER  ? " 


Thy  banks  with  peon^d'"  and  twilled''  brims, 

10.  The  common  marsh-iuariffold  was  called  peony  in  some  localities. 

11.  Reeds  were  called  tuills  in  some  localities. 


The  Tempest  387 

Which  spongy^-  April  at  thy  hest  betrims, 

To  make  cold  nymphs  chaste  crowns  ;^^  and  thy 

brown  groves. 
Whose  shadow  the  dismissed  bachelor  loves, 
Being  lass-lorn ;^^  thy  pole-clipt  vineyard;*^ 
And  thy  sea-marge,  steril,  and  rocky-hard, 
WTiere  thou  thvself  dost  air; — the  Queen  o'  the 

Sky," 
Whose  watery  arch^^  and  messenger  am  I, 
Bids  thee  leave  these,  and  with  her  sovereign 

Grace, 
Here  on  this  grass-plot,  in  this  very  place. 
To  come  and  sport.     Her  peacocks'^  fly  amain: 
Approach,  rich  Ceres,  her  to  entertain. 

Enter  Ceres. 

Cer.     Hail,  many-color'd  messenger,  that  ne'er 
Dost  disobey  the  wife  of  Jupiter;'^ 
Who,  with  thy  saffron  wings,  upon  my  flowers 
Dift'usest  honey-drops,  refreshing  showers; 
And  with  each  end  of  thy  blue  bow  dost  crown 
My  bosky-*^  acres  and  my  unshrubb'd  down,-' 

12.  The  fretjuent  rains  of  April  make  the  ground  like  a  water-soaked 
sponge. 

13.  This  passage  means:  "Thy  banks  with  edges  bordered  willi 
marsh -marigolds  and  reeds  which  rainy  April  trims  to  make  cold  crowns 
for  chaste  nymphs." 

14.  Lass-lorn  mcdns  forsaken  by  his  lass. 

15.  The  poles  in  a  vineyard  are  dipt  or  embraced  by  tlie  vines. 

16.  Juno  was  (^iieen  of  the  sky  and  Iris  was  her  special  messenger. 

17.  Rain})ow. 

18.  Peacocks  were  sacred  to  Juno  and  are  rc|)rcs('nted  as  accompany- 
ing her. 

19.  Jupiter  was  the  chief  god  of  the  ancient  fJrocks,  and  Juno  was 
his  wife. 

20.  Bosky  means  vorxled. 

21.  Unshrnbbed  downs  are  tracts  of  land  on  \shich  no  Ijushos  gr')W. 


.S<S<S  Thk  Tempest 

Kick  scarf  to  my  ])r()u<I   Earth; — why  hath  thi 

Queen 
Suiiiinoird  me  hither,  to  this  short-grass'd  green  ? 

Iris.     A  contract  of  true  love  to  celebrate; 
And  some  donation  freely  to  estate 
On  the  bless'd  lovers. 

Cer.  Tell  me,  heavenly  Bow, 

If  Yenus"^  or  her  son,  as  thou  dost  know, 
Do  now  attend  the  Queen  r     Since  they  did  plot 
The  means  that  dusky  Dis*'^  my  daughter  got,"' 
Her  and  her  blind  boy's^^  scandal'd  company 
I  have  forsAvorn. 

Iris.  Of  her  society 

Be  not  afraid:  I  met  her  deity 
Cutting  the  clouds  toW' ards  Paphos,^^  and  her  son 
Dove-drawn  with  her. 

Cer.  Here,  Queen  of  highest  states^ 

Great  Juno  comes;  I  know  her  by  her  gait.^' 

Enter  Juno.^* 

Juno.     How  does  my  bounteous  sister.^     Go 
with  me 
To  bless  this  twain,  that  they  may  prosperous  be, 
x\nd  honour'd  in  their  issue. 

a.  Venus  was  the  Greek  goddess  of  love  and  beauty. 

23.  Dis  is  another  name  for  Pluto,  who  according  to  the  Greek 
mythology  ruled  in  the  dismal  lower  world. 

24.  By  the  aid  of  Venus,  Pluto  stole  Proserpina,  the  daughter  of 
Ceres  and  Jupiter,  and  carried  her  away  to  be  his  queen  in  Hades. 

25.  Her  blind  hoy  is  Cupid,  the  mischievous  little  god  of  love. 

26.  Paphos  was  a  city  in  Cj'prus,  where  Venus  loved  to  live. 

27.  Juno's  walk  was  very  stately  and  dignified. 

28.  Juno  was  a  large,  noble,  motherly-looking  woman,  who  is  repre- 
sented in  art  as  attended  by  the  nymphs  and  the  hours,  as  well  as  by 
Iris.     The  goose  and  the  cuckoo  were  as  much  Juno's  birds  as  the  pea- 


The  Tempest  389 

Song. 

Juno.     Honour,  riches,  murriage-hlessing. 
Long  continuance,  and  increasing. 
Hourly  joys  he  still  upon  you ! 
Juno  sings  her  blessings  on  you. 

Cer.       Earth's  increase,  a^idjoison  plenty,-^ 
Barns  and  garners  never  empty; 
Vines  ivith  clustering  bunches  growing; 
Plants  ivith  goodly  burden  bowing; 
Spring  come  to  you  at  the  farthest 
In  the  very  end  of  harvest  f" 
Scarcity  and  ivant  shall  shun  you; 
Ceres'  blessing  so  is  on  you. 

Ferd.     This  is  a  most  majestic  vision,  and 
Harmonious  charmingly.     INIay  I  he  hold 
To  think  these  spirits  ?^^ 

Pros.  Spirits,  which  by  mine  art 

I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
My  present  fancies. 

Ferd.  Let  me  live  here  ever; 

So  rare  a  wonder'd^'  father  and  a  wife 
Make  this  place  Paradise.     [Juno  and    Ceres 

whisper,  and    send 
Iris  on  employment. 

Pros.  Sweet,  now,  silence! 

cwk.     She  was  the  protectress  of  young  married  people  antl  iiifiuits, 
and  so  was  worshiped  especially  by  women. 

29.  Foison  and  plenty  mean  about  the  same  thing.     The  phrase 
might  be  read,  overflomtuj  pleiiUj,  a  great  plenty. 

30.  This  means,  may  a  new  spring  come  as  soon  as  you  have  gathere<l 
the  harvest  of  the  old  one.     May  there  be  no  winter  in  your  lives. 

.31.  Ferdinand  is  still  ama/.e<l,  and  intiuires  if  they  are  really  spirits 
that  he  sees. 

32.  Ho  rare  a  wouder'd  father  means,  so  rarely  wonderful  a  father. 

Vol   IX.-26. 


.'WO  M'lii:  Tempest 

.luiio  and  Ceres  whisper  .seriously; 

There's    sometliiiig    else   to   do:    hush,   and   be 

nuitc. 
Or  else  our  spell  is  marr'd. 

Iris.     You    nymphs,    call'd    Naiads,    of    the 

winding  brooks. 
With  your  sedge  crowns  and  ever-harmless  looks. 
Leave  your  crisp^^  channels,  and  on  this  green 

land 
Answer  our  summons;  Juno  does  command: 
Come,  temperate  nymphs,  and  help  to  celebrate 
A  contract  of  true  love;  be  not  too  late. — 

Enter  certain  Nymphs. 

You  sun-burn'd  sicklemen,    of  August  weary, 
Come  hither  from  the  furrow,  and  be  merry: 
Make  hoUday;  your  rye-straw  hats  put  on, 
And  these  fresh  nymphs  encounter  every  one 
In  country  footing. 

Enter  certain  Reapers,  properly  habited:  they 
join  with  the  Nymphs  in  a  graceful  dance; 
towards  the  end  whereof  Prospero  starts  sud- 
denly, and  speaks;  after  ivhich,  to  a  strange, 
hollow,  and  confused  noise,  they  heavily  vanish. 

Pros.     [Aside.]     I  had  forgot  that  foul  con- 
spiracy 
Of  the  beast  Caliban  and  his  confederates 
Against  my  life:  the  minute  of  their  plot 

33.  Crisp  means  curled,  alluding  to  the  wavelets  that  the  breezes 
make  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 

34.  The  sicklemen  are  reapers   called   from   the   harvest  fields  to 
make  mem-. 


The  Tempest  391 

Is  almost  come. — [To  the  Spirits.]    Well  done; 
avoid ;^^  no  more! 
Ferd.     This  is  most  strange:  your  father's  in 
some  passion 
That  works  him  strongly. 

Mir  a.  Never  till  this  day 

Saw  I  him  touch'd  with  anger  so  distemper'd. 

Pros.     You  do,  my  son,  look  in  a  moved  sort. 
As  if  you  were  dismay 'd :  be  cheerful,  sir. 
Our  revels  now  are  ended.     These  our  actors. 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 
Are  melted  into  air,  into  thin  air: 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision. 
The  cloud-capp'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces. 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack^®  behind.     We  are  such  stufl' 
As  dreams  are  made  on,^^  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded^^  with  a  sleep.     Sir,  I  am  vex'd; 
Bear  with  my  weakness;   my  old  brain  is  trou- 
bled: 
Be  not  disturb'd  with  my  infirmity: 
If  you  be  pleased,  retire  into  my  cell. 
And  there  repose:  a  turn  or  two  I'll  walk. 
To  still  my  beating  mind. 

jtj-    '     [■  We  wish  you  peace. 

Pros.     [To  Ariel.]     Come  with  a  thought! — 

35.  Avoid  means  hegotie. 

36.  The  thin  fleecy  clouds,   liigliest  in  the  sky,  were  calle<i   rack. 

37.  Ore  is  here  used  for  of. 

38.  We  would  say  rounded  off  or  finuilied. 


392  The  Tempest 

1    thank   ye."^"       [Exeunt   Feed,    and   Mira.] — 
Ariel,  come! 

Re-enter  Ariel. 

ArL     Thy  thoughts  I  cleave  to:  what's  thv 

pleasure  ? 
Pros.  Spirit, 

We  must  prepare  to  meet  with**'  Caliban. 

Ari.     Ay,  my  commander:  when  I  presented 
Ceres, 
I  thought  t'  have  told  thee  of  it;  but  I  fear'd 
Lest  I  might  anger  thee. 

Pros.     Well,  say  again,  where  didst  thou  leave 

these  varlets  ? 
Ari.     I  told  you,  sir,  they  were  red-hot  with 
drinking; 
So  full  of  valour,  that  they  smote  the  air 
For  breathing*^  in  their  faces;  beat  the  ground 
For  kissing  of  their  feet;  yet  always  bending 
Towards  their  project.     Then  I  beat  my  tabor; 
At  which,  like  unback'd"  colts,  they  prick'd  their 

ears, 
Advanced^^  their  eyelids,  lifted  up  their  noses 
As  they  smelt  music:  so  I  charm'd  their  ears. 
That,  calf-like,  they  my  loT\ang  follow'd  through 
Tooth 'd  briers,  sharp  furzes,  pricking  goss,  and 
thorns. 


39.  7  thank  ye  is  spoken  to  Ferdinand  and  Miranda,  and  is  Pnospero's 
reply  to  their  good  wishes. 

40.  Meet  with  means  oppose  or  counteract. 

41.  For  breathing   means   heeause   it   breatfied.     In   the   next   line, 
for  kissing  means  because  it  kissed. 

42.  Unbacked  means  unridden. 

43.  Advanced  means  raised. 


The  Tempest  393 

Which  enter'd  their  frail  shins:  at  last  I  left  them 
I'  the  filthy-mantled^*  pool  beyond  your  cell, 
There  dancing  up  to  th'  chins,  that^^  the  foul  lake 
O'erstunk  their  feet. 

Pros.  This  was  well  done,  my  bird. 

Thy  shape  invisible  retain  thou  still : 
The  trumpery  in  my  house,  go  bring  it  hither. 
For  stale^^  to  catch  these  thieves. 

Ari.  I  go,  I  go.     [Exit. 

Pros.     A  devil,  a  born-devil,^^  on  whose  nature 
Nurture  can  never  stick ;^^  on  whom  my  pains, 
Humanely  taken,  all  are  lost,  quite  lost; 
And  as  with  age  his  body  uglier  grows. 
So  his  mind  cankers.*^     I  will  plague  them  all, 
Even  to  roaring. — 

Re-enter    Ariel    loaden    with    (jlisterincf    ap- 
parel,  &c. 

Come,  hang  them  on  this  line.''" 

Prospero  and  Ariel  remain  invisible.     Enter 
Caliban,  Stephano,  and  Trinculo,  all  wet. 

Cat.     Pray  you,  tread  softly,  that  the  blind 
mole  may  not 
Hear  a  foot  fall:  we  now  are  near  his  cell. 


44.  The  pool  was  maDtled,  or  covered  over,  with  filth. 

45.  For  that  read  so  that  or  insomuch  that. 

4G,  Stale  means  bait.     It  was  a  term  u.sed  by  huuters  for  a.  bail 
that  woidd  lure  bird^. 

47.  Caliban. 

48.  Nurture  can  never  stick  on  his  nature:  that  is,  he  can  never  be 
improved  by  culture  or  education. 

49.  Cankers  means  rusts,  or  here,  eats  into  itself. 

50.  It  is  not  known  whether  line  refers  to  u  clothesline  or  to  u  line 
tree.     Only  Shakespeare  himself  could  tell  us  to  a  certainty. 


I?J)4  The  Tempest 

Sic  pit.  ^Monster,  your  fairy,  which  you  say 
is  a  harmless  fairy,  has  done  Httle  better  than 
piay'd  the  Jack  with  us.^* 

Trin.  Monster,  I  do  smell  all  horse-stale;  at 
wliich  my  nose  is  in  great  indignation. 

Sieph.  So  is  mine. — Do  you  hear,  monster.'^ 
If  I  should  take  a  displeasure  against  you,  look 
you, — 

Trin.     Thou  wert  but  a  lost  monster. 

Cal.     Nay,  good  my  lord,  give  me  thy  favour 
still.' 
Be  patient,  for  the  prize  I'll  bring  thee  to 
Shall  hoodwink  this  mischance:"  therefore  speak 

softly ; 
All's  hush'd  as  midnight  yet. 

Trin.     Ay,  but  to  lose  our  bottles  in  the  pool, — 

Steph.  There  is  not  only  disgrace  and  dis- 
honour in  that,  monster,  but  an  infinite  loss. 

Trin.  That's  more  to  me  than  my  wetting: 
yet  this  is  your  harmless  fairy,  monster. 

Steph.  I  will  fetch  off  my  bottle,  though  I  be 
o'er  ears  for  my  labour. 

Cal.     Pr'ythee,    my    King,    be   quiet.     See'st 
thou  here  ? 
This  is  the  mouth  o'  the  cell :  no  noise,  and  enter. 
Do   that  good   mischief  w^hich   may  make   this 

island 
Thine  own  for  ever,  and  I,  thy  Caliban, 
For  aye  thy  foot-licker. 

51.  Piay'd  the  Jack  with  us.  "Led  us  astray  as  a  Jack-o'-lantern 
might." 

52.  To  hoodwink  this  mischance  means  to  make  it  forgotten  or  over- 
looked. 


The  Tempest  395 

Steph.  Give  me  thy  hand.  I  do  begin  to  have 
bloody  thoughts. 

Trin.  O  King  Stephanol  O  peer!^''  O 
worthy  Stephano!  look  what  a  wardrobe  here  is 
for  thee! 

Cat.     Let  it  alone,  thou  fool;  it  is  but  trash. 

Triji.  O,  ho,  monster!  we  know  what  belongs 
to  a  frippery.^ — O  King  Stephano! 

Steph.  Put  off  that  gown,  Trinculo;  by  this 
hand,  I'll  have  that  gown. 

Trin.     Thy  Grace  shall  have  it. 

Cat.     The  dropsy  drown  this  fool!— what  do 
you  mean, 
To  dote  thus  on  such  luggage  ?     Let's  along, 
And  do  the  murder  first:  if  he  awake, 
From  toe  to  crown  he'll  fill  our  skins  with  pinches; 
Make  us  strange  stuff. 

Steph.  Be  you  quiet,  monster. — Mistress  line, 
is  not  this  my  jerkin  ?  Now  is  the  jerkin  under 
the  line:^^  now,  jerkin,  you  are  like  to  lose  your 
hair,  and  prove  a  bald  jerkin. 

.53.  In  Hudson's  Shakespeare  this  is  explained  as  an  allusion  to  the 
old  ballad  entitled  "Take  thy  old  Cloak  about  theo."  The  follow- 
ing stanza  is  rjuoted: 

"King  Stepfien  was  a  worthy  peer. 
His  breeches  cost  him  but  a  crown; 
He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear. 
Therefore  he  called  the  tailor  lown." 

54.  A  frippery  was  a  shop  where  old  clothes  were  sold.  Trinculo 
has  found  the  clothing  Ariel  hung  upon  the  line. 

55.  Under  the  line.  We  can  imagine  that  Stephano  has  pulled  the 
leather  jerkin  or  coat  from  the  line.  When  he  says  under  lite  line, 
he  thinks  of  that  as  an  expression  sailors  use  when  they  are  near  the 
equinoctial  line  or  equator,  where  the  heat  is  intense,  so  strong  as  to  take 
the  hair  or  fur  off  the  coat  anfl  mako  it  ;i  bald  jerkin. 


:?96  The  TeiMpest 

Tri)i.  Do,  do:  we  steal  by  line  and  level,^' 
jin't  like  your  Grace. 

Sfcplt.  I  thank  thee  for  that  jest;  here's  a 
garment  for't:  wit  shall  not  go  unrewarded  while 
I  am  king  of  this  country.  Steal  hy  line  and  level 
is  an  excellent  pass  of  pate;"  there's  another 
garment  for't. 

Trill.  Monster,  come,  put  some  lime^^  upon 
your  fingers,  and  away  with  the  rest. 

Cal.     I  will  have  none  on't:  w^e  shall  lose  our 
time, 
And  all  be  turn'd  to  barnacles, ^^  or  to  apes 
With  foreheads  \allainous  low. 

Steph.  Monster,  lay-to  your  fingers:  help  to 
bear  this  away,  where  my  hogshead  of  wine  is. 
or  I'll  turn  you  out  of  my  kingdom;  go  to,  carr} 
this. 

Trin.     And  this. 

Steph.     Ay,  and  this. 

A  noise  of  hunters  heard.  Enter  divers  Spirits 
1)1  shape  of  hounds,  and  hunt  them  about: 
Prospero  ayid  Ariel  setting  them  on. 

Pi'os.  Hey,    Mountain,    hey! 

Ari.  Silver!  there  it  goes,  Silver! 

Pros.  Fury,  Fury!  there.  Tyrant,  there!  hark! 

hark ! —  [Cal.,  Steph.,  and  Trin.  are  driven  out. 

56.  By  line  andjevel,  that  is,  as  architects  build,  by  plumb  line  and 
level.     Trinculo  picks  up  tke  word  line  and  makes  a  new  pun  on  it. 

57.  A  pass  is  a  thrust;  fate  is  head.  Pass  of  pate  is  a  thrust  or  sally 
of  wit. 

58.  Lime  is  a  sticky  substance  used  to  catch  birds. 

59.  Barnacles  here  means  barnacle-geese,  a  kind  of  geese  supposed 
by  the  superstitious  to  be  produced  when  certain  barnacles  or  shell-fish 
fell  into  thi"  sea  water. 


The  Tempest  397 

Go  charge  my  goblins  that  they  grind  their  joints 
With  dry  convulsions;  shorten  up  their  sinews 
With    aged    cramps;    and    more    pinch-spotted 

make  them 
Than  pard  or  cat-o'-mountain.^^ 

4j-i^  Hark,  they  roar! 

Pros.     Let  them  be  hunted  soundly.     At  this 

hour 
Lie  at  my  mercy  all  mine  enemies : 
Shortly  shall  all  my  labours  end,  and  thou 
Shalt  have  the  air  at  freedom:  for  a  little 
Follow,  and  do  me  service.  [Exeunt. 

ACT  V 

Scene   I.— Before   the   Cell   of  Prospero. 

Enter  Prospero  in  his  magic  robes,  and  Ariel. 
Prospero  speaks: 

^0\\  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head: 
My   charms    crack   not;   my  spirits 
obey;  and  Time 
13  Goes    upright    with    his    carriage.' 

How's  the  day  ? 

Art.     On    the    sixth   hour;    at    which    time, 
my  lord, 
You  said  our  work  should  cease. 

Pros.  I  did  say  so, 

60.  Pard  is  a  contraction  for  leopard;  cai-o' -mounia'm  may  be  another 
name  for  wild-cat,  though  wild-cats  are  not  .s|)otted.  Probably  the 
term  is  loosely  used  to  mean  any  spotted  animal  of  the  cat  tribes. 

1.  Goes  ujyright  villi  his  carria(jc  means,  (joes  erectly  under  hi.i 
burden,  that  is,  there  Is  time  enough  to  accomplish  what  Prospero  wishes 
to  do. 


398  The  Tempest 

When  first  I  raised  the  tem])est.     Say,  my  spirit. 
How  fares  the  King  and's  followers  ? 

Ari.  Confined  together 

In  the  same  fashion  as  you  gave  in  charge; 
Just  as  you  left  them;  all  are  prisoners,  sir. 
In  the  line-grove  which  weather-fends  your  cell ;' 
They  cannot  budge  till  your  release.^     The  King, 
His  brother,  and  yours,  abide  all  three  distracted; 
And  the  remainder  mourning  over  them. 
Brimful  of  sorrow  and  dismay;  but  chiefly 
He  that  you  term'd  The  good  old  lord,  Gonzalo: 
His  te-ars  run  down  his  beard,  like  winter-drops 
From  eaves  of  reeds.     Your  charm  so  strongly 

works  'em. 
That,  if  you  now  beheld  them,  your  affections 
Would  become  tender. 

Pros.  Dost  thou  think  so,  spirit  ? 

Ari.     Mine  would,  sir,  were  I  human. 

Pros.  And  mine  shall. 

Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
Of  their  afflictions,  and  shall  not  myself, 
One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply 
Passion  as  they,*  be  kindUer  moved  than  thou  art  ? 
Though  with  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to 

th'  quick. 
Yet  with  my  nobler  reason  'gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part:  the  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance:  they  being  penitent, 

2.  That  is,  "In  the  grove  of  line-trees  which  protects  your  cell 
from  the  weather." 

3.  Till  your  release  means  till  you  release  them. 

4.  In  this  place  all  has  the  sense  of  quite;  relish  means  feel;  passion 
has  the  sense  of  suffering.  The  meaning  of  the  clause  is,  that  feel  suffer- 
ing quite  as  sharply  as  they. 


The  Tempest  399 

The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  further.     Go  release  them,  Ariel : 
My  charms  I'll  break,  their  senses  I'll  restore, 
And  they  shall  be  themselves. 

An.  I'll  fetch  them,  sir.     [Exit. 

Pros.     Ye    elves    of    hills,    brooks,    standing 

lakes,  and  groves; 
And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,^  and  do  fly  him 
"When  he  comes  back;  you  demi-puppets  that 
By  moonshine  do  the  green-sour  ringlets^  make, 
\Vhereof    the    ewe    not    bites;    and    you    whose 

pastime 
Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms;^  that  rejoice 
To  hear  the  solemn  curfew;^  by  whose  aid — 
Weak  masters''  though  ye  be — I  have  be-dimm'd 
The   noon-tide   Sun,  call'd   forth  the  mutinous 

winds, 
And  'twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azure  vault 
Set  roaring  war:  to  the  dread-rattling  thunder 
Have  I  given  fire,  and  rifted  Jove's^"  stout  oak 
With  his  own  bolt:  the  strong-based  promontory 


5.  Neptune,  the  name  of  the  god  of  the  seas,  is  used  for  sea  or  ocean 

6.  "Fairy  rings"  are  green  circles  in  the  grass.  They  were  supposed 
to  be  caused  by  fairies  dancing  in  a  circle,  but  are  now  known  to  be  caused 
by  mushrooms  which  grow  in  circles  and  which  enrich  the  ground  as 
they  decay.  Because  it  contained  some  peculiar  quality  which  Shake 
speare  calls  sourness,  the  sheep  would  not  eat  the  grass  of  the  rings. 

7.  Because  mushrooms  and  toadstools  spring  up  so  quickly  in  the 
night,  they  were  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  fairies. 

8.  The  curfew  rings  at  night,  and  the  fairies  rejoice  to  hear  it,  for 
it  is  the  signal  for  them  to  begin  their  frolics. 

9.  The  fairies  are  weak  masters,  that  is,  they  can  accomplish  little 
if  left  to  themselves,  but  under  the  direction  of  a  human  mind  like 
Prospero's,  they  could  work  such  wonders  as  he  dcscriljes. 

10.  The  oak  was  sacred  to  Jove  f  Jupiter),  and  lightning  and  tliunder 
bolts  were  his  chief  weapons. 


400  The  Tempest 

Have  I  made  shake,  and  by  the  spurs"  pluck'd  up 
The  pine  and  cedar:  graves  at  my  command 
Have  waked  their  sleepers,  oped,  and  let  'em 

forth 
By  my  so  potent  art.     But  this  rough  magic 
I  here  abjure;  and,  when  I  have  required 
Some  heavenly  music, — which  even  now  I  do, — 
To  work  mine  end  upon  their  senses  that 
This  airy  charin  is  for,  I'll  break  my  stafl*. 
Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth, 
And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound 
I'll  drown  my  book.  [Solemn  music. 

Re-enter  Ariel:  after  him,  Alonso,  with  afrantu; 
gesture,  attended  hy  Gonzalo;  Sebastian  and 
Antonio  in  like  manner,  attended  hy  Adrian 
and  Francisco  :  they  all  enter  the  circle  whicJt 
Prospero  had  made,  and  there  stand  charmed; 
which  Prospero  observing,  speaks. 

A  solemn  air,  as  the  best  comforter 

To  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  the  brains. 

Now  useless,  boil'd^"  within  the  skull! — ^There 

stand. 
For  you  are  spell-stopp'd. — 
Holy  Gonzalo,  honourable  man, 
Mine  eyes,  even  sociable  to^^  the  show  of  thine. 
Fall    felloAvly    drops. ^^ — The    charm    dissolves 

apace ; 
And  as  the  morning  steals  upon  the  night, 

11.  The  spurs  are  the  long  rools  of  the  pines  and  cedars. 

12.  BoiVd  is  used  for  hoiliny  or  seething. 

13.  Sociable  to  means  sympathizing  with. 

14.  Fallfellowly  drops  means  shed  tears  in  sympathy. 


The  Tempest  401 

Melting  the  darkness,  so  their  rising  senses^" 
Begin  to  chase  the  ignorant  fumes  that  mantle'* 
Their  clearer  reason. — O  thou  good  Gonzalo, 
My  true  preserver,  and  a  loyal  sir 
To  him  thou  follow'st!  I  will  pay  thy  graces 
Home*^  both  in  word  and  deed. — Most  cruelly 
Didst  thou,  Alonso,  use  me  and  my  daughter: 
Thy  brother  was  a  f urtherer  in  the  act : — 
Thou'rt    pinch'd    for't    now,    Sebastian. — Flesh 

and  blood, 
You,  brother  mine,  that  entertain'd  ambition. 
Expell'd    remorse^^    and    nature;^''    who,    with 

Sebastian, — 
Whose  inward  pinches  therefore  are  most 

strong, — 
Would  here  have  kill'd  your  King;  I  do  forgive 

thee, 
Unnatural  though  thou  art. — Their  understand- 
ing 
Begins  to  swell;  and  the  approaching  tide 
Will  shortly  fill  the  reasonable  shore,"" 
That   now   lies    foul  and    muddy.     Not  one  of 

them 
That  yet  looks  on  me,  or  would  know  me. — Ariel, 
Fetch  me  the  hat  and  rapier  in  my  cell: — 

[Exit  Ariel. 

15.  Rising  senses  means  clearing  mental  faculties. 

16.  Ignorant  fumes  that  mantle  alludes  to  the  confusion  that  the  charm 
has  caused  in  their  ideas.  The  whole  passage  means  simply  that  tliov 
are  recovering  their  senses. 

17.  This  sentence  means,  /  will  reheard  thee  to  the  utinust. 

18.  Rcnwrse  here  means  ;>////. 

19.  Nature  here  means  brotherly  love. 

20.  The  reasonable  shore  moans  the  shore  of  reason.  As  the  tide 
rises  to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  so  their  clearing  thoughts  fill  their  miuda 


402  Thf  Tempest 

I  will  disease  me,-'  and  myself  present 

As  I  was  sometime  Milan:- — quickly,  spirit; 

Thou  shalt  ere  long  be  free. 

Ariel   re-enters,   singing,    and   helps    to   attire 
Prospero. 

Ari.     WTiere  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I; 
In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie, — 
There  I  couch:  when  owls  do  cry. 
On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 
After  Summer,  merrily.^^ 
Merrily,  merrily  shall  1  live  now 
Under  the  blossom  that  banos  on  the  bouo-h. 
Pros.     Why,  that's  my  dainty  Ariel!     I  shall 
miss  thee; 
But  yet  thou  shalt  have  freedom: — so,  so,  so. 
To  the  King's  ship,  invisible  as  thou  art : 
There  shalt  thou  find  the  mariners  asleep 
Under   the  hatches;    the  master  and   the  boat- 
swain 
Being  awaked,  enforce  them  to  this  place, 
And  presently,  I  pr'ythee. 

Ari.     I  drink  the  air  before  me,^*  and  return 
Or  e'er  your  pulse  twice  beat.  [Exit  Ariel. 

Gonza.     All    torment,    trouble,    wonder,    and 
amazement 


21.  Disease  me  means  remove  my  disguise. 

22.  As  I  was  sometime  Milan  means  as  I  was  once,  the  Duke  of 
Milan. 

23.  The  meaning  of  the  three  lines  preceding  has  been  much  dis- 
puted. No  one  knows  exactly  what  the  poet  meant.  Perhaps  Ariel 
sings  with  this  meaning:  "When  the  owls  cry  and  foretell  the  approach 
of  winter,  I  fly  on  the  back  of  a  bat  in  a  merry  search  for  summer." 

24.  Ariel  uses  this  fanciful  way  of  saying  that  he  will  go  as  fast 
as  human  thought. 


The  Tempest 


403 


HEIIOLD     llli:    UliO.NGKD    DUKE    OF   MIl.A.V. 


Inhabit  here:  sunie  liejiveiily  power  guide  us 
Out  of  this  fearful  countrv! 

Pros.  15ehold,  sir  King, 

The  wronged  Duke  of  Milan,  Prospero: 


404  The  Tempest 

For  more  assurance  that  a  living  prince 
Does  now  Speak  to  thee,  I  embrace  thy  body; 
And  to  thee  and  thy  company  I  bid 
A  hearty  welcome. 

Alon.  Wier^  thou  be'st  he  or  no, 

Or  some  enchanted  trifle'^  to  abuse  me, 
As  late  I  have  been,  I  not  know:  thy  pulse 
Beats,  as  of  flesh  and  blood;  and,  since  I  saw 

thee, 
Th'  aflfliction  of  my  mind  amends,  with  which, 
I  fear,  a  madness  held  me:  this  must  crave — 
An  if  this  be  at  alP' — a  most  strange  story. 
Thy  dukedom  I  resign  and  do  entreat 
Thou  pardon  me  my  wrongs. ^^     But  how  should 

Prospero 
Be  living  and  hv  here ':' 

Pros.  First,  noble  friend,^" 

Let  me  embrace  thine  age,  whose  honour  cannot 
Be  measured  or  confined. 

Gonza.  Whether  this  be 

Or  be  not,  I'll  not  swear. 

Pros.  You  do  yet  taste 

Some  subtilties^"  o'  the  isle,  that  will  not  let  you 
Believe   things   certain. — Welcome,   my   friends 

all:— 
[Aside  to  Seba«.  and  Anto.]     But  you,  my  brace 

of  lords,  were  I  so  minded, 
1  here  could  pluck  his  Highness'  frown  upon  you, 

25.  Wher  is  a  contraction  of  whether. 

26.  Trifle  here  means  'phantom  or  spirit. 

27.  This  clause  means,  if  this  be  at  all  true. 

28.  My  wrongs  means  the  wrongs  I  have  done. 

29.  He  speaks  to  Gonzalo. 

.'50.   Taste  some  suhtilties  means  feel  ,io>iie  deceptions. 


The  Tempest  405 

And  justify  you  traitors  :^^  at  this  time 
I'll  tell  no  tales. 

Sebas.     [Aside  to  Anto.]     The  Devil  speaks 
in  him. 

Pros.  Now, 

For  you,  most  wicked  sir,  whom  to  call  brothf-r 
Would  even  infect  my  mouth,  I  do  forgive 
Thy  rankest  fault;  all  of  them;  and  require 
My  dukedom  of  thee,  which  perforce,  I  know» 
Thou  must  restore. 

Ahn.  If  thou  be'st  Prospero, 

Give  us  particulars  of  thy  preservation; 
How  thou  hast  met  us  here,  who  three  hours  since 
Were  wreck'd  upon  this  shore;  where  I  have  lost — 
How  sharp  the  point  of  this  remembrance  is! — 
My  dear  son  Ferdinand. 

Pros.  I'm  woe^'  for't,  sir. 

Alon.     Irreparable  is  the  loss;  and  patience 
Says  it  is  past  her  cure. 

Pros.  I  rather  think 

You  have  not  sought  her  help ;  of  whose  soft  grace. 
For  the  like  loss  I  have  her  sovereign  aid. 
And  rest  myself  content. 

Alon.  You  the  like  loss! 

Pros.     As  great  to  me,  as  late;^^  and,  portable 
To   make  the   dear  loss,   have   I   means   much 

weaker 
Than  you  may  call  to  comfort  you;  for  I 
Have  lost  my  daughter. 

Alon.  A  daughter! 

31.  Justify  you  traitors  means  prorr  that  ymt  are  traitors. 

32.  Woe  here  means  .i(jrry. 

33.  As  late  means  ax  rccenl. 

Vol.  TX— 27. 


406  The  Tempest 

0  Heavens,  that  they  were  Hving  both  in  Naples, 
The  King  and  Queen  there!  that  they  were,  I 

wish 
^lyself  were  mudded  in  that  oozy  bed 
Where  my  son  Hes.     \Mien  did  you  lose  your 

daughter  ? 
Pros.     In  this  last  tempest.     I  perceive,  these 

lords 
At  this  encounter  do  so  much  admire,^^ 
That  they  devour  their  reason,  and  scarce  think 
Their  eyes  do  offices  of  truth,  these  words 
Are  natural  breath  :^^  but,  howsoe'er  you  have 
Been  justled  from  your  senses,  know  for  certain 
That  I  am  Prospero,  and  that  very  Duke 
Which  was   thrust  forth   of  .Milan;   who   most 

strangely 
Upon  this  shore,  where  you  were  wreck'd,  was 

landed. 
To  be  the  lord  on't.     No  more  yet^®  of  this ; 
For  'tis  a  chronicle  of  day  by  day,^' 
Not  a  relation  for  a  breakfast,  nor 
Befitting  this  first  meeting.     Welcome,  sir; 
This  cell's  my  Court:  here  have  I  few  attendants, 
And  subjects  none  abroad:  pray  you,  look  in. 
My  dukedom  since  you've  given  me  again, 

1  will  requite  you  with  as  good  a  thing; 
At  least  bring  forth  a  wonder  to  content  ye 
As  much  as  me  my  dukedom. 

34.  In  this  place  admire  means  wonder. 

35.  Are  natural  breath  means  are  the  breath  of  a  human  being.  The 
lords  are  still  amazed;  they  cannot  reason,  they  can  scarcely  believe 
their  eyes  or  that  the  words  they  hear  come  from  a  hv-ing  human  being. 

36.  In  this  connection  yet  means  now,  or  for  the  present. 

37.  That  is,  it  is  a  storj'  to  be  told  day  after  day. 


The  Tempest  407 

The  entrance  of  the   Cell  opens,   and  discovers 

Ferdinand  and  Miranda  'playing  at  chess. 

Mira.     Sweet  lord,  you  play  me  false.^^ 

Ferd.  No,  my  dear's!  love, 

I  would  not  for  the  world. 

Mira.     Yes,    for   a    score    of   kingdoms    you 
should  wrangle,^*' 
And  I  would  call  it  fair  play. 

Alon.  If  this  prove 

A  vision  of  the  island,  one  dear  son 
Shall  I  twice  lose."" 

Sebas.  A  most  hig-h  miracle ! 

Ferd.     Though   the   seas   threaten,    they   are 
merciful ! 
I've  cursed  them  without  cause.    [Kneels  to  Alon. 

Alon.  Now  all  the  blessings 

Of  the  glad  father  compass  thee  about ! 
Arise,  and  say  how  thou  camest  here. 

Mira.  O,  wonder! 

How  many  goodly  creatures  are  there  here! 
How  beauteous  mankind  is!  O  brave  new  world, 
That  has  such  people  in't! 

Pros.  'Tis  new  to  thee. 

Alo7i.     What  is  this  maid  with  whom   thou 
wast  at  play.'* 
Your  eld'st  acquaintance  cannot  be  three  hours: 
Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  sever'd  us, 
And  brought  us  thus  together.? 

38.  Miranda  playfully  accuses  Ferdinand  of  cheating  Lu  llie  game. 

39.  The  exact  meaning  of  wrangle  lias  not  been  determined,  and  critics 
still  disagree.  However,  what  Miranda  says  is,  "you  might  cheat  me 
for  a  score  of  kingdoms  and  yet  I  would  rail  it  fair  l)lay." 

40.  Alonso  means  that  if  this  sight  of  Ferdinand  is  one  of  the  witch- 
eries of  tb«  iilaud.  he  will  feel  that  lie  has  Inst  his  son  a  second  time. 


408  TiiK  Tempest 

Ferd.  Sir,  she's  mortal: 

But  by  immortal  Providence  she's  mine: 
I  chose  her  when  I  could  not  ask  my  father 
For  his  advice,  nor  thought  I  had  one.     She 
Is  daughter  to  this  famous  Duke  of  Milan, 
Of  whom  so  often  I  have  heard  renown. 
But  never  saw  before;  of  whom  I  have 
Received  a  second  life;  and  second  father 
This  lady  makes  him  to  me/' 

Alon.  I  am  hers: 

But,  O,  how  oddly  will  it  sound  that  I 
Must  ask  mv  child  forgiveness! 

Pros.  There,  sir,  stop: 

Let  us  not  burden  our  remembrance  with 
A  heaviness  that's  gone. 

Gonza.  I've  inly  wept. 

Or  should  have  spoke  ere  this. — Look  down,  you 

gods. 
And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown! 
For  it  is  you  that  have  chalk'd  forth  the  way 
Which  brought  us  hither. 

Alon.  I  say,  iVmen,  Gonzalo! 

Gonza.     Was  Milan  thrust  from  IVIilan,  that 
his  issue 
Should  become  Kings  of  Naples !   O,  rejoice 
Beyond  a  common  joy!  and  set  it  down 
With  gold  on  lasting  pillars:     In  one  voyage 
Did  Claribel  her  husband  find  at  Tunis; 
And  Ferdinand,  her  brother,  found  a  wife 
WTiere  he  himself  was  lost;  Prospero,  his  duke- 
dom, 

41.  And  thLs  lady  by  becoming  my  wife  makes  him  a  second  father 
to  me. 


The  Tempest  409 

In  a  poor  isle;  and  all  of  us,  ourselves, 
When  no  man  was  his  own/^ 

Alon.     [To  Ferd.  a7id  Mira.]     Give  me  your 
hands : 
Let  grief  and  sorrow  still  embrace  his  heart 
That  doth  not  wish  you  joy! 

Gonza.  Be't  so!     Amen! — 

Re-enter  Ariel,  with  the  Master  and  Boatswain 
amazedly  Jollowing. 

O,  look,  sir,  look,  sir!   here  is  more  of  us: 
I  prophesied,  if  a  gallows  were  on  land, 
This  fellow  could  not  drown."^ — Now,  blasphemy, 
That  swear'st  grace  o'erboard,  not  an  oath  on 

shore  ?*' 
Hast  thou   no   mouth  by   land  ?     What  is    the 

news  ? 
Boats.     The  best  news  is,  that  we  have  safely 

found 
Our  King  and  company;  the  next,  our  ship — 
Which,  but   three   glasses    since,    we  gave    out 

split — 
Is  tight,  and  yare,  and  bravely  rigg'd,  as  when 
We  first  put  out  to  sea. 

Ari.     [Aside  to  Pros.]  Sir,  all  this  service 
Have  I  done  since  I  went. 

Pros.     [Aside  to  Ariel.]     My  tricksy*^  spirit! 


42.  That  is,  "all  of  us  have  found  our  senses,  when  no  man  was  in 
possession  of  his  own." 

43.  See  Act  I — Scene  I. 

44.  This  sentence  means,  "Now  you  blasphemous  man  who  sworr 
.to  on  board  the  ship  that  we  could  be  saved,  have  you  not  an  oath  to 
swear  on  shore?" 

\5.  Tricksy  means  clever. 


410  The  Tempest 

Alo7i.     These   are    not   natural    events;    they 
strengthen 
From  strange  to  stranger. — Say,  how  came  you 
hither  ? 
Boats.     If  I  did  think,  sir,  I  were  well  awake, 
I'd  strive  to  tell  you.     We  were  dead  of  sleep, 
And — how    we    know    not — all    clapp'd    under 

hatches; 
Where,  but  even  now,  with  strange  and  several 

noises 
Of  roaring,  shrieking,  howding,  jingling  chains. 
And  more  diversity  of  sounds,  all  horrible. 
We  were  awaked;  straightway,  at  liberty: 
When  w^e,  in  all  her  trim,  freshly  beheld 
Our  royal,  good,  and  gallant  ship;  our  master 
Capering  to  eye  her:^*^  on  a  trice,  so  please  you, 
Even  in  a  dream,  were  we  divided  from  them. 
And  were  brought  moping^ ^  hither. 

Ari.     [Ande  to  Pros.]  Was't  well  done  ? 

Pros.     [Aside  to  Ari.]     Bravely,  my  diligence. 

Thou  shalt  be  free. 
Alon.     This  is  as  strange  a  maze  as  e'er  men 
trod; 
And  there  is  in  this  business  more  than  Nature 
Was  ever  conduct  of  :^*  some  oracle 
Must  rectify  our  knowledge. ^^ 

Pros.  Sir,  my  liege, 

Do  not  infest  your  mind  with  beating  on^" 

46.  Capering  to  eye  Iter  means  dancing  with  joy  at  seeing  her. 

47.  Moping  here  means  bewildered. 

48.  Conduct  of  is  used  for  comluctor  or  leader  of. 

49.  That  is,  "some  wise  man  must  make  it  clear  to  us." 

50.  This  sentence  means  "Do  not  trouble  your  mind  by  hammer- 
ing away  at  the  strangeness  of  these  happenings. " 


The  Tempest  411 

The    strangeness    of    this    business;    at    pick'd 

leisure,"^ 
Which  shall  be  shortly,  single  I'll  resolve^-  you — 
Which  to  you  shall  seem  probable — of  every 
These  happen'd  accidents  :^  till  when,  be  cheerful, 
And  think  of  each  thing  well. — [Aside  to  Ariel.] 

Come  hither,  spirit: 
Set  Caliban  and  his  companions  free; 
Untie   the   spell.     [Exit   Ari.] — How   fares    my 

gracious  sir  ? 
There  are  yet  missing  of  your  company 
Some  few  odd  lads  that  you  remember  not. 

Re-enter  Ariel,  driving  in  Caliban,  Stephano, 
and  Trinculo,  in  their  stolen  aj^parel. 

Steph.  Every  man  shift  for  all  the  rest,^*  and 
let  no  man  take  care  for  himself;  for  all  is  but 
fortune. — Coragio,"^  bully-monster,  coragio ! 

Trin.  If  these  be  true  spies  which  I  wear  in 
my  head,^®  here's  a  goodly  sight. 

Cat.     O  Setebos,  these  be  brave  spirits  indeed ! 
How  fine  my  master  is!     I  am  afraid 
He  will  chastise  me. 

Sebas.     Ha,  ha! 
What  things  are  these,  my  Lord  Antonio  ? 
Will  money  buy  'em  ? 

51.  At  pick'd  leisure  is  at  a  chosen  time  wfien  we  have  the  oppor 
t  unity. 

52.  Single  Vll  resolve  means  /  will  explain  sinyly. 

53.  Of  every  these  happen'd  accidents  means  liow  every  one  of  thest 
things  happened. 

54.  Stephano  is  still  a  little  drunk  and  his  tongue  uncertain  in  its 
speech.     He  means,  Let  every  man  shift  far  himself. 

55.  Coragio  is  used  for  courage/ 

56.  Trinculo  means,  "If  my  eyes  do  nol  deceive  me." 


41^2  Thk  Tempest 

A)ito.  Very  like;  one  of  them 

Is  a  plain  fish,  and,  no  doubt,  marketable. 
Pros.     Mark  but  the  badges  of  these  men,  my 
lords. 
Then   say   if   they   be   true.     This   mis-shaped 

knave, — 
His  mother  was  a  witch;  and  one  so  strong 
That  could  control  the  ]\Ioon,  make  flows  and 

ebbs. 
And  deal  in  her  command  without^'  her  power. 
These  three  have  robb'd   me;   and   this  demi- 

de\dl — 
For  he's  but  half  a  one — had  plotted  with  them 
To  take  my  life:  two  of  these  fellows  you 
Must  know  and  own;  this  thing  of  darkness  I 
Acknowledge  mine. 

Cal.  I  shall  be  pinch'd  to  death. 

Alon.     Is    not    this    Stephano,    my    drunken 

butler  ? 
Sebas.     He  is  drunk  now :  where  had  he  wine  ? 
Alon.     And  Trinculo  is  reeling  ripe:  where 
should  they 
Find  this  grand  liquor  that  hath  gilded^^  'em  ?-^^ 
How  camest  thou  in  this  pickle.^ 

Trin.  I  have  been  in  such  a  pickle  since  I 
saw  you  last,  that  I  fear  me,  will  never  out  of  my 
bones:  I  shall  not  fear  fly-blowing.^^ 

57.  Without  here  means  outside  of  or  beyond. 

58.  Gilded  is  a  word  that  was  commonly  applied  to  a  man  who  was 
drunk. 

59.  Meat  that  is  infested  with  maggots  which  have  hatched  from 
^gs  laid  by  flies  is  said  to  be  fly-blowii.  These  will  not  lay  their  eggs  in 
pickled  meat.  Trinculo  says  he  has  been  so  pickled,  that  is  drunk, 
that  the  flies  will  not  blow  him. 


WHAT   THINGS   ARE    THKSi:.' 


The  Tempest  413 

Sebas.     Why,  how  now,  Stephaiio! 

Steph .     O,  touch  me  not !     I  am  not  Stephano, 
but  a  cramp. 

Pros.     You'd  be  king  o'  the  isle,  sirrah  ? 

Sfeph.     I  should  have  been  a  sore^"  one,  then. 

Alon.     [Poiniing  to  Cal.]     This  is  as  strange 
a  thing  as  e'er  I  look'd  on. 

Pros.     He  is  as  disproportion'd  in  his  manners 
As  in  his  shape. — Go,  sirrah,  to  my  cell; 
Take  with  you  your  companions;  as  you  look 
To  have  my  pardon,  trim  it  handsomely. 

Cal.     Ay,  that  I  will;  and  I'll  be  wise  here- 
after, 
And  seek  for  grace.     What  a  thrice  double  ass 
Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god. 
And  worship  this  dull  fool! 

Pros.  Go  to;  away! 

Alon.     Hence,  and  bestow  your  luggage  where 
you  found  it. 

Sebas.     Or  stole  it,  rather. 

[Exeunt  Cal.,  Steph.,  and  Trin. 

Pros.     Sir,  1  invite  your  Highness  and  your 
train 
To  my  poor  cell,  where  you  shall  take  your  rest 
For  this  one  night;  which,  part  of  it,  I'll  waste 
With  such  discourse  as,  I  not  doubt,  shall  make  it 
Go  quick  away, — the  story  of  my  life. 
And  the  particular  accidents  gone  by. 
Since  I  came  to  this  isle:  and  in  the  morn 
I'll  bring  you  to  your  ship,  and  so  to  Naples, 
Where  I  have  hope  to  see  the  nuptial 

00.  Stephano  is  sore  from  his  lorL'ieiils,  but  as  lh(>  woril  -lurr  uIsd 
riif-ans  har.th  nncl  severe,  he  makes  a  good  pun  in  his  spporli. 


414  The  Tempest 

Of  these  our  dear-beloved  solemnized; 
And  thence  retire  me^^  to  my  Milan,  where 
Every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave. ^" 

Alon.  1  long 

To  hear  the  story  of  your  life,  a\  liich  must 
Take  the  ear  strangely. 

Pros.  I'll  deliver  all; 

And  promise  you  calm  seas,  auspicious  gales, 
And  sail  so  expeditious,  that  shall  catch 
Your  royal  fleet  far  off. — [Aside  to  Ari.]     My 

Ariel,  chick. 
That  is  thy  charge:  then  to  the  elements 
Be  free,  and  fare  thou  well! — Please  you,  draw 
near.  [Exeunt. 

EPILOGUE^^ 

SPOKEN    BY    PROSPERO 

Now^  my  charms  are  all  o'erthrown, 
And  what  strength  I  have's  mine  own, — *^ 
Wliich  is  most  faint:  now,  'tis  true, 
I  must  be  here  confined  by  you,^'^ 
Or  sent  to  Naples.     Let  me  not, 
Since  I  have  my  dukedom  got, 


61.  Retire  me  means  witJulraw  myself. 

62.  Prospero  has  accomplished  his  pm-poses:  he  has  recovered 
his  dukedom,  has  found  a  suitable  husband  for  his  daughter,  and  now 
feels  that  life  has  little  in  store  for  him.  So  every  third  thought  will 
be  in  preparation  for  his  death. 

83.  The  Epilogue  is  a  part  s[X)ken  by  one  of  the  actors  after  the 
play  is  over,  and  is  addressed  to  the  audience.  Here  Prospero  steps 
forward  and  speaks. 

64.  He  has  dismissed  Ariel  and  laid  aside  all  his  magic  arts. 

65.  The  audience  may  hold  him  on  the  island  or  send  him  to  Naples, 
for  he  is  still  under  a  spell. 


The  Tempest  415 

And  pardon'd  the  deceiver,  dwell 
In  this  bare  island  by  your  spell; 
But  release  me  from  my  bands, 
With  the  help  of  your  good  hands.®® 
Gentle  breath  of  vours  mv  sails 
Must  fill,  or  else  my  project  fails, 
Which  was  to  please:  now  I  want 
Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant; 
And  my  ending  is  despair, 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer; 
Which  pierces  so,  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  all  faults. 
As  you  from  crimes  would  pardon'd  be. 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free. 

tfi.  He  asks  the  audience  to  applaud,  to  clap  their  hands,  for  noise 
always  breaks  charms,  and  will  release  him  from  the  enchantment  so 
that  be  may  return  to  his  dukedom. 


STUDIES  FOR   THE  TEMPEST 

IHE  AUTHOR.  Many  times  we  have 
had  occasion  to  say  that  an  acquaint- 
ance with  an  author  has  much  to  do 
with  our  Hking  for  his  Avorks,  and  as 
wa  read  the  great  plays  of  our  great- 
est poet,  we  wish  we  might  know  him  more 
intimately.  However,  when  we  look  for  in- 
formation concerning  him,  we  quickly  find 
that  comparatively  little  is  known  of  the  man 
beyond  what  we  can  draw  from  his  writings,  and 
few  authors  have  shown  themselves  less  viAidly. 
After  doing  our  best,  we  can  find  only  a  great, 
shadowy  Author  who  must  have  had  a  broad 
knowledge,  a  rare  invention,  a  profound  insight 
into  human  nature,  a  penetrating  sympathy  and 
a  marvelous  power  of  expression.  As  seen 
through  his  works,  he  appears  more  than  human, 
but  when  we  look  into  our  histories,  we  wonder 
that  so  great  a  man  could  have  lived  and  died, 
and  left  so  light  an  impression  on  his  times.  In 
fact,  some  wise  men  have  felt  that  the  William 
Shakespeare  we  know  could  never  have  written 
the  great  plays  that  bear  his  name.  That  is  a 
question,  however,  we  need  not  discuss;  it  is 
better  to  leave  the  credit  where  it  has  rested 
for  centuries,  and  believe  that  the  plays  are 
better  evidence  of  Shakespeare's  greatness  than 
his  own  life  is  evidence  of  his  ability  to  write 
them. 

416 


\vilma:m  siiakkspkakk 


The  Tempest  417 

William  Shakespeare  was  born  in  Stratford - 
on- A  von,  April  23,  1564.  His  father,  John 
Shakespeare,  was  a  respectable  citizen,  a  wool- 
dealer  and  a  glover,  who  at  one  time  possessed 
considerable  means,  and  was  an  alderman  and 
a  bailiff  in  the  little  town,  but  w^ho  later  on  lost 
most  of  his  property  and  ceased  to  be  prominent 
in  the  affairs  of  the  village.  William's  mother 
was  Mary  Arden,  a  gentle,  tender  woman  of 
Norman  descent,  who  exerted  a  powerful  influ- 
ence over  the  lives  of  her  children. 

Until  William  was  about  fourteen  years  old 
he  attended  the  free  school  in  Stratford,  and 
though  there  are  many  legends  concerning  his 
boyhood  pranks  and  his  gift  for  learning,  we 
know  practically  nothing  for  a  certainty.  In 
one  of  the  desks  at  the  school,  they  still  show  the 
initials  he  is  sup})osed  to  have  cut  during  some 
idle  moment.  Of  his  youth  we  know  still  less, 
except  that  at  about  eighteen  he  married  Ann 
Hathaway,  a  farmer's  daughter  who  lived  in  the 
village  of  Shottery,  a  mile  or  two  from  Stratford. 
Ann  was  eight  years  older  than  William,  but 
they  seem  to  have  lived  happily  and  to  have 
loved  the  children  that  were  born  to  them. 

The  next  thing  we  can  be  really  certain  of  is, 
that  about  the  time  William  was  twenty-three 
he  went  to  London  and  soon  became  connected 
with  a  company  of  actors.  Here  tlie  genius  of 
the  poet  began  to  make  itself  felt.  He  wrote 
some  plays,  he  recast  others,  and  by  the  time 
he  had  been  five  years  in  the  city,  he  was  promi- 
nent among  the  bright  men  of  his  time,  and  was 


418  The  Tempest 

recognized  as  a  rising  man.  Unlike  most  actors 
and  Avriters  of  that  period,  Shakespeare  was  not 
a  dissipated  man,  but  attended  carefully  to  his 
duties,  saved  his  money,  and  ten  years  after  he 
left  Stratford  was  able  to  rcturn  to  his  native 
town  and  buy  a  fine  estate,  to  which  he  added 
from  time  to  time.  His  money  had  not  all  come 
from  his  writings  and  his  acting,  however,  for  he 
owned  a  large  part  of  the  stock  in  the  two  lead- 
ing theaters  in  London. 

About  1604  he  ceased  to  be  an  actor,  although 
he  continued  to  write  for  the  stage,  and  in  fact 
produced  his  greatest  plays  after  that  date. 
Seven  years  later  he  returned  finally  to  Strat- 
ford, and  there  lived  a  quiet  and  delightful  home 
life  until  1616,  when  on  the  anniversary  of  his  birth 
he  died  suddenly  of  a  fever.  He  was  buried  in 
the  little  parish  church  at  Stratford,  w^here  his  re- 
mains rest  beside  those  of  his  wife.  On  the  flat 
stone  that  covers  his  body  is  inscribed  this  epitaph: 

"Good  frend  for  lesus  sake  forbeare, 
To  digg  the  dvst  encloased  heare: 
Blesse  be  ye  man  yt  spares  thes  stones, 
And  Cvrst  be  he  yt  moves  my  bones." 

Such  are  the  principal  facts  that  we  know  con- 
cerning the  great  man,  and  a  simple  biography 
it  certainly  is.  We  must  not,  however,  think 
that  he  was  not  popular  among  his  fellows,  or 
that  he  was  merely  a  successful  business  man. 
He  counted  among  his  friends  the  wisest  and 
best  men  of  his  time,  and  some  of  them  have 


The  Tempest  419 

written  their  impressions  of  him.  Ben  Jonson, 
a  rough  but  sincere  and  honest  man,  says:  "I 
loved  the  man,  and  do  honor  his  memory,  on 
this  side  idolatry,  as  much  as  any.  He  was  in- 
deed honest,  and  of  an  open,  free  nature;  had  an 
excellent  phantasy,  brave  notions  and  gentle 
expressions." 

]HE  PLAY.  The  Tempest  was  one  of 
the  last  of  the  poet's  dramas,  though 
not  the  last,  as  some  writers  have  con- 
tended. It  was  not  printed  until  1623, 
after  the  poet's  death,  but  it  was 
written,  according  to  Hudson,  between  1603 
and  1613,  and  probably  between  1610  and  1613. 
The  story  seems  to  have  been  original  with 
Shakespeare;  at  least  no  satisfactory  evidence 
has  been  given  to  show  that  he  borrowed  it. 
This  is  rather  unusual,  for  Shakespeare  showed 
a  fine  contempt  for  originality,  and  borrowed 
the  plots  of  his  plays  from  a  great  variety  of 
sources.  His  own  version  of  each  story,  how- 
ever, was  so  masterly  that  no  one  regrets  that 
he  availed  himself  of  all  the  assistance  he  could 

get. 

The  scene  of  the  play  is  laid  on  an  island; 
what  island  we  do  not  know.  Pr()V)ably  it  is  as 
mythical  as  the  events  that  happened  on  it,  and 
never  had  any  existence  outside  the  poet's  mind. 

The  Tempest  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  most 
perfect  plays.  In  form  it  is  perfect,  and  follows, 
more  closoiy  than  was  cuslomarv  with  him,  the 
strict  laws  of  the  old  (ireek  dramas,  the  laws 


4^20  The  Tempest 

which  critics  still  uphold  as  those  governing  the 
highest  art.  The  three  unities  are  here  ob- 
served:  The  events  all  occur  in  a  single  day; 
they  happen  in  a  single  place;  from  beginning 
to  end  there  is  one  continuous  line  of  thought. 
Only  the  last  characteristic  is  still  generally 
observed  by  dramatic  writers. 

Beside  perfection  in  form.  The  Tempest  shows 
the  greatest  nicety  in  the  way  the  natural  and 
supernatural  move  along  together  without  a 
single  interference.  It  is  difficult  to  think  of  the 
magic  art  of  Prospero  as  more  marvelous  than 
the  coarse  plotting  of  Sebastian,  or  to  consider 
the  delicate  Ariel  and  the  mis-shapen  Caliban 
less  human  than  the  manly  Ferdinand,  or  the 
honest  old  Gonzalo.  Only  a  great  writer  could 
accomplish  this,  and  none  but  a  genius  could 
make  of  his  work  a  piece  so  fine  that  we  delight 
in  every  line  of  it.  It  would  be  unfair  too  not 
to  mention  the  beautiful  expressions  that  abound 
in  it,  the  high  sentiments  that  prevail,  and  the 
great  renunciation  that  Prospero  makes  when  he 
has  in  his  hands  every  means  for  swift  and 
terrible  revenge. 

HARACTERS.  In  reading  the  drama 
we  become  acquainted  with  the  char- 
acters, and  begin  to  be  indifferent 
toward  some,  to  have  admiration  for 
others  and  contempt  for  others.  In 
real  life  we  must  not  be  governed  by  our 
first  impressions  of  people.  We  must  study 
their  appearance,  their  speech,  their  actions,  and 


The  Tempest  4'^>1 

make  up  our  mind  as  to  their  characters  before 
we  decide  to  make  them  our  friends.  It  is  verv 
unwise  to  trust  every  agreeable  person  we  meet, 
and  especially  unwise  to  be  suspicious  of  every 
person  who  at  first  impresses  us  unfavorably.  The 
older  we  grow,  the  keener  becomes  our  power 
to  read  character,  and  the  less  liable  we  are  to  be 
deceived  if  we  try  always  to  use  our  best  judg- 
ment. One  of  the  o-reat  benefits  literature  can 
offer  us  is  the  opportunity  to  study  character, 
and  Shakespeare  had  such  a  remarkable  insight 
into  human  nature,  and  so  great  a  power  of 
drawing  character  that  in  his  plays  we  can  see 
before  us  almost  every  type  of  human  being, 
and  from  a  study  of  them  we  can  gain  a  knowl- 
edge of  humanity  that  will  help  us  every  day  of 
our  lives. 

Accordingly,  let  us  take  up,  one  after  another, 
the  principal  characters  in  The  Tempest  and 
study  them  in  such  a  way  that  we  shall  be  able 
to  read  other  plays  with  greater  ease  and  quick- 
ened intelligence. 

1.  Prospero,  The  hero  of  the  drama  is  a 
man  well  advanced  in  years,  grave,  dignified  and 
serene.  As  Duke  of  ^lilan  he  was  a  prince  of 
power,  "without  a  parallel  in  dignity  and  knowl- 
edge." He  was  popular  with  his  subjects,  foi* 
so  dear  was  the  love  his  people  bore  him,  that 
the  conspirators  did  not  dare  to  destroy  him. 
Yet  he  was  not  inclined  to  rule  his  dukedom,  for 
he  grew  a  stranger  to  his  state,  so  transported 
and  wrapt  was  he  in  secret  studies.  Tie  con- 
fesses that  his  librarv  was  duke'dom  enouii[h  for 

Vol.  1X.-28. 


{^2^2  The  Tempest 

liim,  and  that  lie  had  vf)liinie.s  that  he  prized 
above  his  dukedom.  This  was  his  weakness, 
and  upon  this  his  false  brother  preyed,  until  one 
night  in  the  dead  of  darkness  the  Duke  and  the 
crying  Miranda  were  set  adrift  in  the  rotten 
carcass  of  a  boat,  which  the  very  rats  instinctively 
had  quit. 

On  the  island,  with  the  books  Gonzalo  had 
preserved  for  him,  he  continued  his  studies  and 
played  the  schoolmaster  to  his  gentle  child  until 
she  was  better  educated  and  more  highly  cul- 
tured than  other  princesses  that  spend  more 
time  in  vain  enjoyments  and  have  less  careful 
tutors.  Prospero's  love  for  his  daughter  is  the 
strong,  central  trait  in  his  character.  He  has 
raised  her  judiciously,  guarded  her  zealously, 
and  now  when  he  finds,  brought  to  his  very  door, 
all  the  actors  in  the  traoedv  of  his  life,  his  one 
great  care  is  to  provide  for  ^Miranda's  happiness. 
All  his  plans  lead  to  that  end,  and  when  he  has 
achieved  it,  the  labors  of  his  life  are  over. 

The  supernatural  powers  that  Prospero  has 
acquired  seem  natural  to  the  studious,  dignified 
old  gentleman,  and  amazing  as  they  are,  we  can 
discredit  none  of  them.  He  tells  us  he  caused 
the  storm,  and  Miranda  begs  him  to  save  the 
passengers  on  the  doomed  ship  with  perfect 
confidence  in  his  ability  to  do  it.  He  causes 
sleep  to  fall  on  Miranda,  and  he  summons  the 
gentle  Ariel,  who  enters  as  naturally  as  a  human 
being,  and  admits  the  marvelous  acts  that  he 
has  seen  Prospero  perform.  Caliban  testifies 
to  the  power  of  Prospero  so  convincingly  that 


The  Tempest  423 

we  know  the  magician  has  control  of  the  destinies 
of  every  human  being  on  the  island,  and  can 
wreak  a  terrible  vengeance  if  he  is  determined 
to  do  it.  \Mien  Ferdinand  draws  his  sword,  the 
magician  by  a  word  makes  him  powerless  as  he 
stands.  We  see  the  magic  banquet  appear  and 
disappear,  and  Iris,  Ceres,  Juno,  the  nymphs 
and  the  reapers  come  and  converse,  as  a  proof 
positive  of  his  more  than  mortal  power.  How 
has  he  used  this  power  and  how  will  he  continue 
to  use  it  ?  When  first  he  came  upon  the  island 
it  was  full  of  evil,  and  the  powers  of  darkness 
ruled.  He  has  imprisoned  and  punished  the 
evil  spirits;  freed  the  gentle  and  the  good,  ban- 
ished all  discord,  and  filled  the  island  "full  of 
noises,  sounds  and  sweet  airs  that  give  delight 
and  hurt  not."  That  in  the  future  he  will  use 
his  vast  power  only  for  good,  we  feel  assured. 
Only  Caliban  hates  and  abuses  him,  only  Cali- 
ban attributes  evil  designs  to  him,  but  the  testi- 
mony of  that  incarnation  of  wickedness  rather 
proves  the  gentleness,  wisdom  and  justice  of 
the  magician. 

Prospero's  passionate  love  for  his  daughter 
makes  him  cunning  and  wise.  Before  he  ^ill 
trust  his  daughter  to  Ferdinand,  he  tests  both 
the  character  and  the  love  of  the  latter  most 
severely.  He  even  feigns  anger  and  appears  to 
be  cruel  and  unjust.  That  he  is  feigning, 
neither  suspect,  but  Miranda  says:  "Never 
till  this  day  saw  I  him  touch'd  with  anger  so 
distemper'd,"  and  "My  father's  a  better  nature, 
sir,  than  he  appears  by  speech."     When  he  is 


4*24  The  Tempest 

assured  of  Ferdinand's  worthiness,  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  love  for  Miranda  and  of  her  devo- 
tion to  her  young  lover,  he  is  delighted,  and 
becomes  so  interested  in  the  entertainment  he  is 
giving  them,  that  he  forgets  the  plot  against  his 
life,  although  the  hour  of  his  danger  has  arrived. 
It  is  true  the  father  stoops  to  listening,  but  his  pur- 
pose is  so  worthy,  no  one  is  inclined  to  cavil  at 
his  watchfulness,  and,  in  any  event,  his  ex- 
ceeding care  but  justifies  the  feeling  that  his 
love  for  ]VIiranda  is  the  mainspring  of  his  every 
act. 

On  this  small  island  Prospero  is  little  less  than 
a  god,  and  controls  affairs  with  almost  super- 
natural justice  and  wisdom.  Caliban,  the  un- 
grateful, terribly  wicked  monster,  who  has 
offended  all  the  laws  of  decency  and  right,  is 
punished  unsparingly  but  with  justice,  for  in 
the  end  with  repentence  he  is  forgiven,  and  the 
tortures  cease.  Ariel  and  the  other  obedient 
spirits,  though  reproved  at  times,  are  rewarded 
by  freedom  and  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
evil  powers  of  earth,  and  air. 
-  The  sufferings  Prospero  has  endured,  the  in- 
tensity of  his  studies,  and  the  fierceness  of  his 
struggles  with  the  supernatural  powers  of  e\il, 
have  given  a  tinge  of  sadness  to  his  thought, 
and  have  led  him  to  feel  that  the  result  of  all  his 
labors  may  amount  to  little.  The  world  is  to 
him  but  an  insubstantial  pageant  that  shall 
dissolve  and  fade,  lea\qng  not  the  trace  of 
the  thinnest  cloud  behind.  And  as  for  our- 
selves. 


Thp:  Tempest  425 

"We  are  such  stiifV 
As  dreams  are  raade  on,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep." 

Yet  no  sooner  does  he  give  way  to  this  feeling 
than  he  sees  how  unkind  it  is  to  trouble  the 
young  with  such  musings,  and  says  pathetically 
to  Ferdinand, 

"Sir,  I  am  vex'd; 
Bear  with  my  weakness;  my  old  brain  is  troubled : 
Be  not  disturbed  with  my  infirmity." 

It  is,  however,  at  the  end  of  the  play,  when  aH 
his  plans  have  been  carried  out  successfully,  and 
enemies  and  friends  are  alike  at  his  mercy,  that 
the  character  of  Prospero  shines  out  most  glori- 
ously. Rejoicing  at  the  fruition  of  his  hopes,  he 
asks  from  his  enemies  only  a  sincere  repentance, 
and  then  nobly  resigning  the  great  arts  which 
have  rendered  the  plotters  powerless,  he  forgives 
them  one  and  all:  his  brother  Antonio;  the 
scheming  Sebastian;  Caliban,  the  evil  spirit;  and 
the  two  weak  but  wicked  ones,  Stephano  and 
Trinculo.  Then  with  generosity  unparalleled 
he  restores  Ferdinand  to  his  father,  the  King, 
who  has  joined  with  Antonio,  and  promises  to 
all  "calm  seas,  auspicious  gales  and  sail  so  ex- 
peditious that  shall  catch  your  royal  fleet  far 
off."  Remembering  to  set  Ariel  free,  he  lays 
aside  his  magic  gown,  breaks  his  staff,  buries  it 
fathoms  deep  in  the  earth,  and  drowns  his 
magic  l)ook  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet 
sound.      Thus    he   loaves    us,  onlv  a    man    once 


4:^()  Thi:  Tempest 

more,   but   a   loving   father,   a    wise   and   gentle 
ruler. 

2.  Miranda.  We  have  seen  that  the  master 
feehng  in  Prospero's  soul  is  his  love  for  his 
daughter.  Is  she  worthy  of  so  great  an  affec- 
tion ?     Let  us  draw  our  answers  from  the  drama. 

(a)  She  is  beautiful. 
Ferdinand  says: 

"Most   sure,   the  godde.ss 
On  whom  these  airs  attend!" 

And: 

"O    you    wonder! 
If  you  be  maid  or  no  ? " 

Caliban  says: 

"And  that  most  deeply  to  consider  is 
The  beauty  of  his  daughter;  he  himself 
Calls  her  a  nonpareil:    I  ne'er  saw  woman 
But  only  Sycorax  my  dam  and  she; 
But  she  as  far  surpasseth  Sycorax 
As  great'st  does  least." 

Alonso  says: 

"Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  sever'd  us. 
And  brought  us  thus  together.^" 

(b)  She  is  educated,  cultured  and  refined. 
Prospero  says: 

"And  here 
Have  T.  thy  schoolmaster,  made  thee  more  profit 


The  Tempest  427 

Than  other  princesses  can,  that  have  more  time 
For  vainer  hours,  and  tutors  not  so  careful." 

(c)   She    is    tender-hearted,    sympathetic    and 
compassionate. 
She  says: 

"O,  I  have  suffer'd 
With  those  that  I  saw  suffer!" 

And: 

"O,    the   cry   did    knock 
Against  my  very  heart!" 

Prospero  speaks  of  these  traits: 

"Wipe  thou  thine  eyes;  have  comfort. 
The  direful  spectacle  of  the  wreck,  which  touch'd 
The  very  virtue  of  compassion  in  thee, " 

Speaking  of  the   trials   which   Prospero   puts 
upon  Ferdinand,  she  says: 

"Make  not  too  rash  a  trial  of  hiui,  for 
He's  gentle  and  not  fearful." 

When  she  learns  of  her  helplessness  at  the  tim«.- 
they  were  set  adrift,  she  says: 

*'0,  my  heart  Ijleeds 
To  think  o'  the  teen  tlwit  I  have  turnVl  yoj  to.' 

Wlien    Miranda    hears    how    her    father    was 
treated  bv  her  false  uncle,  she  exclaims: 


428  The  Tempest 

"Alack,  for  pity  I 
I,  not  rememberinfj  how  I  cried  on't  then, 
\\'ill  crv  it  o'er  again:  it  is  a  hint 
That  wrings  mine  eyes  to't." 

(d)  She  is  brave. 

Prospero  says  of  her  childhood : 

"O,  a  cherubin 
Thou  wast  that  did  preserve  me!     Thou  didst 

smile. 
Infused  ^\-ith  a  fortitude  from  Heaven." 

(e)  She  is  innocent  and   unacquainted   with 
mankind  and  hates  the  sight  of  evil. 

"\Mien  she  first  sees  Ferdinand,  she  asks: 

"^Miat  is't .-     A  spirit.^ 
Lord,  how  it  looks  about!     Believe  me,  sir, 
It  carries  a  brave  form.     But  'tis  a  spirit." 

Again: 

"I  do  not  know 
One  of  my  sex;  no  woman's  face  remember, 
Sa.ve,  from  my  glass,  mine  own;  nor  have  I  seen 
More  that  I  may  call  men,  than  you,  good  friend." 

And  finally: 

"How   beauteous   mankind   is!      O  brave  new 

world, 
That  has  such  people  in't." 

She  savs  of  Caliban: 


The  Tiimpest  4i9 

*''Tis  a  villain,  dr, 
I  do  not  love  to  look  on." 

{D  She  is  grateful. 

When  she  is  told  of  Gonzalos  services  to  her 
and  her  father,  she  exclaims: 

''Would  I  might 
But  ever  see  that  mani  " 

( ff)  She  is  a  loving,  faithful  woman : 
While  Ferdinand  is  at  work  she  pleads: 

"Alas.  now.  pray  von. 

Work  not  so  hard. 

Pray,  set  it  down,  and  rest  you:  when  this  burns. 
'T^Nnll  weep  for  having  wearied  you." 

-\gain : 

"If  you'll  sit  down. 
I'll  bear  your  logs  the  while." 

Later    Ferdinand    asks.      " '^Tierefor^?    weep 
you.'"     Miranda  answers: 

"At  mine  unworthiness. 


-Hence,  bashful  cunnino:! 


.\nd  prompt  me.  plain  and  holy  innocem-e! 
I  am  your  wife,  if  you  will  marry  me; 
If  not,  rU  die  your  maid:  to  be  your  fellow 
You  may  deny  me;  but  Fll  be  your  servant. 
\Miether  you  will  or  no." 

(h)   Lover  and  father  both  bestow  unqualitied 
praise  upon  her.     Ferdinand  says: 


430  Till.  Tempest 

"Admired  ^Miranda! 
Indeed  the  top  of  admiration;  worth 
What's  dearest  to  the  world! 


-but  you,  O  you, 


So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best!" 

Her  father  savs: 

"O  Ferdinand, 
Do  not  smile  at  me  that  I  boast  her  ofif. 
For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise. 
And  make  it  halt  behind  her." 

3.  Ferdinand.  The  quotations  we  have  made 
from  the  text  seem  to  have  answered  our  question 
as  to  Miranda's  worthiness.  Upon  what  sort  of 
a  man  has  she  set  her  affections  ?  Will  she  find 
in  her  husband  the  man  she  thinks  she  is  to 
marry  ?  Answer  these  questions  for  yourselves 
by  reading  the  text  and  setting  down  the  proofs 
as  we  did  while  studying  Miranda. 

4.  Ariel.  Prospero's  agent  Ariel  is  an  in- 
teresting study,  for  the  poet  has  drawn  him  with 
lines  so  clear  and  exact  that  he  seems  a  veritable 
person.  Will  you  not  seek  to  know  him,  and  in 
doing  so  follow  these  suggestions  ? 

(a)  Ariel  appears  in  the  following  scenes: 


Act  I 

Scene  II 

(three  times) 

Act  II 

Scene  I 

(t\\ice) 

Act  III 

Scene  II 

(once) 

Scene  III 

(once) 

Act  IV 

Scene  I 

(three  times) 

Act  V 

Scene  I 

(five  times) 

The  Tempest  431 

How  many  scenes  are  there  in  the  play  ?  In 
how  many  does  Ariel  appear?  In  what  scenes 
does  he  make  no  appearance  ?  ^Vhat  characters 
appear  more  times  ?  What  characters  appear 
more  prominently  in  the  play  ? 

(b)  Ariel  does  many  different  things.  Make 
a  list  of  the  things  Ariel  does  in  this  play,  and  a 
second  list  of  the  things  that  it  appears  Ariel  has 
done  elsewhere. 

(c)  Ariel  appears  in  different  forms.  What 
are  these  forms  ?  Is  Ariel  ever  visible  to  any  of 
the  characters  besides  Prospero  ?  Does  Ariel 
ever  appear  visibly  to  Prospero  ?  If  the  play 
were  to  be  acted  on  the  stage,  would  be  it  neces- 
sary at  any  time  to  have  a  person  come  upon  the 
stage  to  represent  him  ? 

(d)  Ariel  has  human  characteristics.  What 
acts  like  those  of  a  human  being  does  Ariel  com- 
mit ?  What  does  Ariel  say  that  shows  him  to 
have  human  traits  ? 

(e)  Ariel  is  a  spirit.  What  supernatural  things 
does  Ariel  do  ?  What  does  Ariel  say  that  makes 
him  seem  more  than  human  ? 

(f)  Ariel  has  a  many-sided  character.  Find 
in  the  play  where  the  following  questions  arc 
answered :  Is  he  faithful  ?  Does  he  do  his 
duties  well  ?  Does  Ariel  love  music  ?  Does  he 
feel  gratitude  ?  Does  he  always  favor  the  right  ? 
Is  Ariel  merry  ?  Does  he  love  fun  ?  Does  he 
jjlay  practical  jokes .''  Does  he  love  warmth  and 
light,  or  cold  and  darkness  ?  Is  he  sympathetic  ? 
Does  he  lessen  the  grief  of  any  one  .^  Does  he 
lead  any  one  to  remorse  for  evil  deeds  'f     Does  he 


485  The  Tempest 

assist  love  in  the  hearts  of  Ferdinand  and  Mi- 
randa ?  Do  you  tliink  Prospero  always  treats 
him  fairly  ?  Does  he  seem  so  light  and  incon- 
stant that  he  needs  some  discipline  ?  What  will 
he  do  when  he  is  released  from  Prospero's 
control  ?  Finally,  does  Ariel  seem  lovable  to 
you,  would  you  like  him  as  a  friend  and  com- 
panion as  well  as  a  powerful  servant  ? 

.5.  Calihan.  It  is  difficult  to  tell  just  what 
the  slave  of  Prospero  looked  like,  and  it  is  not  at 
all  unlikely  that  the  poet  intended  we  should  not 
see  him  very  clearly.  He  is  a  hideous  spectacle, 
scarcely  human,  yet  resembling  a  man  in  some 
respects.  He  is  called  in  various  places  villain, 
slave  and  tortoise;  a  moon-calf,  that  is,  a  shape- 
less lump;  a  fish,  with  legs  like  a  man  and  fins 
like  arms;  a  puppy-headed  monster;  a  man 
monster;  half  a  fish  and  half  a  monster;  a  plain 
fish;  a  mis-shaped  knave;  "as  strange  a  thing  as 
e'er  I  looked  upon;"  and  it  is  said  of  him  tha-  his 
manners  are  as  disproportioned  as  his  shape 

Is  the  character  of  Caliban  apparent^i}  in 
keeping  with  his  appearance  ?  What  does  Pros- 
pero say  of  him  .^  Do  you  place  confidence  in 
.the  opinion  of  such  a  man  as  Prospero,  and  do 
you  feel  that  he  is  not  unnecessarily  severe  If 
Does  Caliban  do  anything  to  justify  the  bad 
character  Prospero  gives  him  early  in  the  play  f 
Why  do  you  suppose  Shakespeare  introduces 
into  the  play  such  a  character.^  Does  such  a 
character  heighten  the  effect  of  the  others  r 

6.  Other  Characters.  Classify  the  other  char- 
acters as  good  or  bad.     ^liere  did  you  place 


The  Tempest  433 

iVlonso  ?  Is  there  any  doubt  at  all  as  to  where 
Gonzalo  should  be  placed  ?  Are  there  any  re- 
deeming traits  in  Stephano?  Do  you  think 
Trinculo's  jesting  is  really  funny  ?  Would  you 
like  the  play  better  if  Stephano  and  Trinculo 
were  left  out  of  it?  AMiat  can  you  find  in  the 
boatswain's  words  to  justify  the  opinion  Gonzalo 
holds  of  him?  Which  is  the  greater  scoundrel, 
Sebastian  or  Antonio  ? 

]HE  STORY  OR  PLOT.  A  certain  duke 
has  been  by  treachery  driven  from  his 
principality  with  his  infant  daughter, 
and  has  found  refuge  on  an  uninhabited 
_  island.  After  many  years  those  who 
plotted  against  him  are  thrown  into  his  power,  he 
recovers  his  dukedom  and  marries  his  daughter 
to  the  son  of  his  king.  Such,  in  brief,  is  the  plot 
of  The  Tempest,  but  how  wonderfully  it  is  ex- 
panded, and  how  many  characters  have  been 
created,  how  many  incidents  created  to  give 
interest  and  truthfulness  to  the  narrative.  Let 
us  follow  the  play  through,  and  by  studying  the 
relation  of  the  incidents,  one  to  another,  learn 
to  appreciate  more  fully  the  art  of  the  great 
magician  who  wrote  the  play. 

Act  I — Scene  I.  P^irpose :  To  introduce  the 
enemies  of  Prospero.  Do  we  know  at  the  time  of 
such  a  person  as  Prospero?  Do  we  know  why 
the  persons  are  on  the  ship,  where  they  intended 
to  go  or  where  they  are  now  ?  When  do  w c 
find  out  these  things?  What  idea  do  you 
get    of    Gonzalo    in    the    first  scene  ?     A\1iy   is 


434  The  Tempest 

his  conversation  with  the  boatswain  put  into  the 
play  ? 

Act  I — Scene  II.  Purpose:  To  bring  before 
us  all  the  leading  characters  in  the  play,  and  to 
tell  us  enough  about  them  to  secure  our  interest; 
also  to  give  us  the  history  necessary  to  an  under- 
standing of  the  plot.  When  do  we  first  learn  that 
there  are  miracles  and  magic  in  the  play  ?  How 
do  we  learn  what  has  happened  to  Prospero  be- 
fore the  time  of  the  storm  ?  How  do  we  learn 
Ariel's  history.^  How  are  we  made  acquainted 
with  Caliban  ?  How  do  we  learn  that  Prospero 
raised  the  storm  ?  How  were  the  mariners  con- 
fused, and  by  whom  were  all  saved  ?  \Miat  did 
Prospero  whisper  in  the  ear  of  Ariel  when  the 
latter  came  in  after  Prospero  has  called  Caliban  ? 
What  incident  followed  as  a  result  of  this  com- 
mand ?  How  did  Ariel  lead  Ferdinand  ?  Are 
there  other  places  in  the  play  where  Ariel  leads 
people  in  the  same  way  ?  What  do  you  call  the 
three  most  important  incidents  in  this  scene  ? 
What  incidents  could  be  left  out  of  this  scene 
without  interfering  with  the  development  of  the 
plot  ? 

Act  II — Scene  I.  Purpose:  To  account  for 
the  presence  of  the  plotters,  and  to  show  the 
character  of  the  men.  Is  it  necessary  to  the 
development  of  the  main  plot  that  Sebastian  and 
Antonio  should  scheme  to  kill  the  king;.^  Do 
any  of  the  incidents  of  this  scene  have  any  direct 
bearing  on  the  main  plot.^  Could  any  of  the 
incidents  of  this  scene  be  omitted  without  injury 
to  the  play  ? 


The  Tempest  435 

Act  II — Scene  II.  Purpose:  To  create 
amusement,  lighten  the  play  and  by  contrast 
make  the  fme  parts  more  beautiful.  Is  any  char- 
acter in  the  scene  absolutely  essential  to  the  com- 
])letion  of  the  story  ?  Would  you  understand 
tlie  story  as  well  if  the  entire  scene  were  omitted  ? 

Act  III — Scene  I.  Purpose:  To  disclose 
Prospero's  purpose  more  fully,  and  to  secure  our 
interest  in  Ferdinand  and  ^Miranda. 

Act  III — Scene  II.  What  is  the  purpose  of 
this  scene  ?  What  bearing  do  the  incidents  of 
this  scene  have  upon  the  main  plot  ? 

Act  III — Scene  III.  What  effect  is  the  magic 
banquet  to  have  on  the  persons  who  saw  it.^ 
What  was  Prospero's  purpose  in  showing  it  ? 
Did  it  contribute  in  any  way  to  the  success  of  his 
general  plan  ? 

Act  IV — Scene  I.  What  incidents  in  this 
scene  are  necessary,  and  what  are  introduced  to 
give  light  and  beauty  to  the  play  ?  What  is  the 
effect  of  introducing  Caliban  and  his  companions 
right  after  Ariel  and  the  spirits  have  been  enter- 
taining Ferdinand  and  INIiranda.'^  What  arc 
Moiuitain,  Silver,  Fury  and  Tyrant,  mentioned 
in  this  scene .'' 

Act  V — Scene  I.  What  is  the  purpose  of 
this  scene  ?  Is  the  plot  brought  to  a  satisfactory 
conclusion  ?  Are  there  any  characters  left  un- 
accounted for.^  Does  every  character  in  the 
play  appear  in  this  scene .''  Are  they  all  on  the 
stage  when  the  curtain  falls  ? 

Make  a  list  of  the  incidents  which  to  you  seem 
unnecessarv,   which   could   be   left   out   without 


436  Thk  Tempest 

injury  to  the  real  storx .  Make  another  list  of  in- 
cidents that  could  not  he  omitted  without  spoiling 
the  story.  Find  t\yo  little  plots  that  make  com- 
plete stories  in  themselves,  but  that  help  only  in 
a  moderate  degree  to  make  the  main  story  clearer. 

,OETRY  AND  PROSE.     Do  any  of  the 

characters  speak  always  in  prose  ? 
Do  any  speak  always  in  poetry  ?  Do 
some  speak  partly  in  prose  and  partly 
in  poetry  ?  Can  you  see  any  con- 
nection between  each  character  and  his  method 
of  speech  ?  How  many  songs  are  sung  in  the 
play  ?  Who  sings  them  ?  Do  you  like  any  of 
the  songs  ?  What  effect  do  the  songs  have  upon 
the  plav  ?  Can  vou  find  rhyming:  lines  anywhere 
excepting  in  the  songs  ?  Does  any  character 
speak  in  rhyme  ? 

CONCLUSION.  If  we  study  a  play 
too  long  or  continue  to  read  it  after 
our  interest  ceases  for  a  time,  we 
are  liable  to  be  prejudiced  against 
it,  and  to  feel  that  it  is  not  worth 

a  the  labor  we  have  put  upon  it.  If, 
however,  a  person  will  stop  study- 
ing when  he  begins  to  lose  interest  and  work 
seems  a  drudgery,  he  will  come  back  a  little  later 
with  renewed  interest.  Again,  when  we  study 
a  play  minutely  as  we  have  been  doing,  and  view 
it  from  many  sides,  we  may  lose  sight  for  a  time 
of  the  unity  and  beauty  of  the  whole  composition. 
This    is    peculiarly    unfortunate,    for    the    poet 


The  Tempest  437 

intends  us  to  view  his  work  as  a  whole,  and  to 
produce  his  effect  with  the  whole.  It  is  TJic 
Tempest  that  we  will  remember  as  a  work  of  art, 
and,  if  our  studies  are  fruitful,  that  will  draw  us 
back  to  it  at  intervals  for  many  years  to  come. 
Before  we  leave  it,  we  must  take  it  and  read  it 
through  in  a  leisurely  manner,  pausing  merely  to 
enjoy  its  beauty,  to  smile  at  its  playfulness  and  to 
feel  our  hearts  expand  under  the  benign  influence 
of  the  grand  old  man  Prospero.  Now  Miranda, 
Ferdinand  and  Ariel  have  passed  the  line  of  mere 
acquaintances,  and  have  become  to  us  fast 
friends,  who,  though  they  may  be  forever  silent, 
have  yet  given  us  a  fragment  of  their  lives  to 
cheer  us  on  our  way. 

ITHER  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 
Shakespeare  wrote  a  great  many  plays, 
and  all  are  not  equally  good;  a  few 
seem  so  inferior  that  many  w^ho  study 
them  think  they  were  not  written  by 
the  same  hand  that  penned  TJie  Tempest.  Some 
of  the  plays  are  more  difficult  than  others,  and 
some  cannot  be  comprehended  until  the  reader 
has  had  some  experience  in  life.  There  arc 
several,  on  the  other  hand,  that  may  be  read  with 
great  interest  and  profit  by  almost  any  one,  while 
those  who  have  read  Tlie  Tempest  as  we  have 
recommended,  should  find  some  measure  of 
enjoyment  in  all.  ".1  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 
is  a  charming  fairy  story;  The  Merchant  oj  Venice 
is  a  good  story,  contains  fine  characters  and  shows 
some  of  Shakespeare's  most  beautiful  thoughts, 
Vol.  IX.— eo. 


438 


Thj:  Tempest 


although  some  people  are  inclined  to  believe  he 
has  dealt  too  severely  with  the  Jew.  Much  Ado 
About  Xotliing  is  a  jolly  comedy  to  match  with 
The  Comedy  of  Errors.  Julius  CwsaVy  Richard 
III  and  Coriolanus  are  interesting  historical 
plays,  and  Hamlet,  Macbeth  and  Romeo  and 
Juliet  are  among  the  best  of  his  tragedies.  If  a 
person  would  read  just  the  plays  mentioned  in 
the  thoughtful  way  we  have  indicated  here,  he 
would  gain  a  benefit  whose  great  value  never  can 
be  estimated,  and  thereafter  all  reading  would 
seem  easier  and  more  delightful. 


THE  IMPEACHMENT  OF  WARREN 
HASTINGS 

THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAU  LAY 
INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 


ARREN     HASTINGS,     the 

remarkable  man  whose  trial 
is  described  in  this  selection, 
was  born  on  the  sixth  of  De- 
cember, 1732.  As  he  was  in 
his  childhood  dependent  on 
his   grandfather,  a  poor  man, 


early    advantages    were    no 


greater 


than 
those  of  the  peasant  children  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. He  had,  however,  from  his  earliest 
years,  an  indomitable  will,  and  the  determination, 
made  when  he  was  but  seven  years  old,  to  regain 
possession  of  the  estate  of  Daylesford,  which  had 
passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the  family,  he  kept 
before  him  all  his  life. 


1.  Thomas  Babington  Macaulay,  English  statesman  and  author,  was 
bom  in  1800.  That  he  was  a  remarkably  precocious  child  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  he  read  widely  at  the  age  of  three,  that  he  wrote  a  history  of 
the  world  at  seven,  and  that  by  the  time  he  was  ten,  he  had  written  poems, 
metrical  romances  and  treatises  on  various  subjects.  Both  at  school  and 
at  college  he  showed  that  the  precocity  of  his  childhood  was  no  false 
promise.  He  first  attracted  wide  attention  in  18'-25,  when  he  published 
his  famous  Essay  on  Milton,  and  he  iujmeiliatoly  found  himself  popular 
in  the  social  as  well  as  the  literary  world.  Shortly  after  he  left  college, 
the  financial  reverses  of  liis  father  made  it  necessary  that  he  should  do 
something  to  earn  his  own  living,  and  to  help  his  family.  IVoiii  this  time 
on  he  showed  the  most  tireless  energy,  writing  essays,  |)oems  and  lirstorical 
articles,  which  constantly  increased  his  fame.  In  1830  he  entered  Parlia- 
ment and  was  a  most  active  and  influential  member.     At  times  hi.s 


439 


440    Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

At  the  age  of  ten  he  was  sent  by  an  uncle  to 
Westminster  School,  where  he  received  an 
excellent  education,  and  at  seventeen  he  was 
sent  to  India  as  a  clerk  in  the  service  of  tlie  East 
India  Company.  In  1764  he  returned  to  Eng- 
land, and  five  years  later  he  went  back  to  India  as 
member  of  the  Council  at  Madras.  In  1774  he 
was  made  governor-general  of  India,  and  it  was 
while  in  this  position  that  he  committed  those 
acts  for  which  he  was  impeached. 

The  chief  of  these  were  the  rendering  of 
military  assistance  to  Sujali  Dowlah,  Nabob  of 
Oude,  in  his  successful  attempt  to  subdue  the 
pro\ince  of  Katahr,  occupied  by  the  Rohillas; 
his  acquiescence  in  the  condemnation  and 
execution  of  Nuncomar,  an  intriguing  Brah- 
min; the  deposition  of  Cheyte  Sing,  Rajah  of 
Benares,  for  alleged  disloyalty,  and  the  enrich- 
ment of  Asaph-ul-Dowlah,  son  and  successor  of 
Sujah  Dowlah,  at  the  expense  of  the  Begums,  or 
Princesses,  of  Oude — the  mother  and  the  grand- 
mother of  Asaph-ul-Dowlah.  It  is  but  just  to 
Hastings  to  state  that  these  things  were  done  not 
to  enrich  himself,   but  to  satisfy  the   constant 

speeches  were  so  powerful  that  they  changed  the  vote  of  the  House  of 
Commons. 

His  greatest  work  was  his  History  of  England  from  tiie  Accession  of 
James  II.  The  fascinating  descriptions  and  exciting  episodes  made  this 
work  instantly  popular  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  despite  the  fact 
that  its  most  ardent  admirer  could  not  claim  for  it  the  merit  of  im- 
partiality. 

Macaulay's  life  was  too  laborious;  by  1852  his  health  broke  down,  and 
seven  years  later  he  died. 

The  essay  on  Warren  Hastings,  from  which  this  selection  is  taken,  is 
one  of  his  historical  essays,  and  shows  very  clearly  many  of  the  peculiar 
characteristics  of  his  style. 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  441 

demands  of  the  East  India  Company  for  funds; 
and  that  when  he  left  India  in  1785,  his  great 
empire  was  in  a  prosperous  and  tranquil  state. 
The  selection  from  Macaulay  begins  with  the 
arrival  of  Hastings  in  England. 

HE  voyage  was,  for  those  times, 
very  speedy.  Hastings  was  little 
more  than  four  months  on  the 
sea.  In  June,  1785,  he  landed  at 
Plymouth,  posted  to  London,  ap- 
peared at  Court,  paid  his  respects 
to  LfCadenhall  Street,  and  then 
retired  with  his  wife  to  Cheltenham. 

Within  a  week  after  he  landed  at  Plymouth, 
Burke  gave  notice  in  the  House  of  Commons  of 
a  motion  seriously  affecting  a  gentleman  lately 
returned  from  India. 

Hastings,  it  is  clear,  was  not  sensible  of  the 
danger  of  liis  position.  A  man  who,  having 
left  England  when  a  boy,  returns  to  it  after  thirty 
or  forty  years  passed  in  India,  will  find,  be  his 
talents  what  they  may,  that  he  has  much  both 
to  learn  and  to  unlearn  before  he  can  take  a 
place  among  English  statesmen.  This  was 
strikingly  the  case  with  Hastings.  In  India  he 
had  a  bad  hand  but  he  was  master  of  the  game, 
and  he  won  everj^  stake.  In  England  he  held 
excellent  cards,  if  he  had  known  how  to  play 
them;  and  it  was  chiefly  Ijy  his  own  errors  that 
he  was  brought  to  the  verge  of  ruin.  Of  all  his 
errors  the  most  serious  was  perhaps  the  choice 
of  his  champion,  Major  Scott.     In  spite,  how- 


44'2  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

ever,  of  this  unfortunate  choice  the  general 
aspect  of  ati'airs  was  favorable  to  Hastings.  The 
King  was  on  his  side;  the  Company  and  its 
servants  were  zealous  in  his  cause;  among  public 
men  he  had  many  ardent  friends.  The  ministers 
were  gcnerallv  believed  to  be  favorable  to  him. 
Mr.  Dundas  was  the  only  important  member  of 
the  administration  who  was  deeply  committed 
to  a  different  view  of  the  subject. 

The  Opposition  was  loud  and  vehement 
against  him.  But  the  Opposition,  though 
formidable  from  the  wealth  and  influence  of 
some  of  its  members,  and  from  the  admirable 
talents  and  eloquence  of  others,  was  outnumbered 
in  Parliament,  and  odious  throughout  the  coun- 
tr}\  Nor,  as  far  as  w^e  can  judge,  was  the 
Opposition  generally  desirous  to  engage  in  so 
serious  an  undertaking  as  the  impeachment  of 
an  Indian  Governor.  Such  an  impeachment 
must  last  for  years.  It  must  impose  on  the 
chiefs  of  the  party  an  immense  load  of  labor. 
Yet  it  could  scarcely,  in  any  manner,  affect  the 
event  of  the  great  political  game.  The  followers 
of  the  coalition  were  therefore  more  inclined  to 
revile  Hastings  than  to  prosecute  him.  But  there 
were  two  men  whose  indignation  was  not  to  be 
so  appeased,  Philip  Francis  and  Edmund  Burke. 

Francis  had  recently  entered  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  had  already  established  a  char- 
acter there  for  industry  and  ability.  He  labored 
indeed  under  one  most  unfortunate  defect,  want 
of  fluency.  But  he  occasionally  expressed  liim- 
self  with  a   dignity  and  energy  worthy  of  the 


Impeachment  of  Wakke.x  Hastings  448 

greatest  orators.  Before  he  had  been  many 
days  in  Parhament,  he  incurred  the  bitter  disUke 
of  Pitt,^  who  constantly  treated  him  with  as  much 
asperity  as  the  laws  of  debate  would  allow. 
Neither  lapse  of  years  nor  change  of  scene  had 
mitigated  the  enmities  which  Francis  had  brought 
back  from  the  East.  After  his  usual  fashion, 
he  mistook  his  malevolence  for  virtue,  nursed  it, 
as  preachers  tell  us  that  we  ought  to  nurse  our 
good  dispositions,  and  paraded  it,  on  all  occa- 
sions, with  Pharisaical  ostentation. 

The  zeal  of  Burke  was  still  fiercer,  but  it  was 
far  purer.  ]\Ien  unable  to  understand  the  eleva- 
tion of  his  mind  have  tried  to  find  out  some  dis- 
creditable motive  for  the  vehemence  and  perti- 
nacity which  he  showed  on  this  occasion.  But 
they  have  altogether  failed.  The  idle  story  that 
he  had  some  private  slight  to  revenge  has  long 
been  given  up,  even  by  the  advocates  of  Has- 
tings. The  plain  truth  is  that  Hastings  had 
committed  some  great  crimes,  and  that  the 
thought  of  those  crimes  made  the  blood  of  Burke 
boil  in  his  veins.  For  Burke  was  a  man  in  whom 
compassion  for  suft'ering,  and  hatred  of  injustice 
and  tyranny,  were  as  strong  as  in  Las  Casas^  or 

'=>.  William  Pitt  (1759-1800),  often  called  the  yoiiiiiifor  Pitt,  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  father,  was  at  this  time  prime  minister.  He  had  been 
advanced  to  this  high  office  when  but  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  he 
was,  as  one  UTiter  says,  "the  most  powerful  sul>jc<t  that  Kngland  had 
had  for  generations."  From  this  time  until  his  dtatli,  the  story  of  Pitt's 
life  and  the  history  of  England  were  to  a  large  extent  identical,  so  did 
he  sway  England's  policy. 

.1.  Hartolome  de  I«is  C'asas  H  I'74-1;jO()'),  was  a  Spanish  monk  of  the 
Dominican  order,  who  s|)ent  much  of  his  life  in  llic  attempt  to  ln'tler  the 
cuuditioDS  of  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  and  in  Spanish  S<juth  .\merica. 


444  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

Clarkson.^  And  although  in  him,  as  in  Las 
Casas  and  in  Clarkson,  these  noble  feelings  were 
alloyed  with  the  infirmity  which  belongs  to  hu- 
man nature,  he  is,  like  them,  entitled  to  this  great 
praise,  that  he  devoted  years  of  intense  labor  to 
the  service  of  a  people  with  whom  he  had  neither 
blood  nor  language,  neither  religion  nor  manners 
in  common,  and  from  whom  no  requital,  no 
thanks,  no  applause  could  be  expected. 

His  knowledge  of  India  was  such  as  few,  even 
of  those  Europeans  who  have  passed  many  years 
in  that  country,  have  attained,  and  such  as 
certainly  was  never  attained  by  any  public  man 
who  had  not  quitted  Europe.  He  had  studied 
the  history,  the  laws,  and  the  usages  of  the  East 
with  an  industry,  such  as  is  seldom  found  united 
to  so  much  genius  and  so  much  sensibility. 
Others  have  perhaps  been  equally  laborious,  and 
have  collected  an  equal  mass  of  materials.  But 
the  manner  in  which  Burke  brought  his  higher 
powers  of  intellect  to  work  on  statements  of 
facts,  and  on  tables  of  figures,  was  peculiar  to 
himself.  In  every  part  of  those  huge  bales  of 
Indian  information  which  repelled  almost  all 
other  readers,  his  mind,  at  once  philosophical 
and  poetical,  found  something  to  instruct  or  to 
delight.  His  reason  analysed  and  digested  those 
vast    and    shapeless    masses;    his    imagination 

4.  Thomas  Clarkson  (1760-1846)  early  resolved  to  give  up  his  life 
to  a  crusade  against  African  slavery.  He  WTOte  books,  made  speeches, 
and  in  various  ways  labored  constantly,  and  in  conjunction  with  William 
Wilberforce  he  was  instrumental  in  bringing  about  the  abolition  of  slave 
trade  in  1807.  In  1833  also  in  part  through  his  efforts,  slavery  was 
abolished  in  the  West  Indies. 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  445 

animated  and  colored  them.  Out  of  darkness 
and  dullness,  and  confusion,  he  formed  a  multi- 
tude of  ingenious  theories  and  vivid  pictures. 
He  had,  in  the  highest  degree,  that  noble  faculty 
whereby  man  is  able  to  live  in  the  past  and  in  the 
future,  in  the  distant  and  in  the  unreal.  India 
and  its  inhabitants  were  not  to  him,  as  to  most 
Englishmen,  mere  names  and  abstractions,  but 
a  real  country  and  a  real  people.  The  burning 
sun,  the  strange  vegetation  of  the  palm  and  the 
cocoa  tree,  the  ricefield,  the  tank,  the  huge  trees, 
older  than  the  Mogul  empire,  under  which  the 
village  crowds  assemble,  the  thatched  roof  of 
the  peasant's  hut,  the  rich  tracery  of  the  mosque 
where  the  imaum  prays  with  his  face  to  Mecca, ** 
the  drums,  and  banners,  and  gaudy  idols,  the 
devotee  swinging  in  the  air,  the  graceful  maiden 
with  the  pitcher  on  her  head,  descending  the 
steps  to  the  river-side,  the  black  faces,  the  long 
beards,  the  turbans  and  the  jBowing  robes,  the 
spears  and  the  silver  maces,  the  elephants  with 
their  canopies  of  state,  the  gorgeous  palanquin 
of  the  prince,  and  the  close  litter  of  the  noble 
lady,  all  these  things  were  to  him  as  the  objects 
amidst  which  his  own  life  had  been  j)assed,  as 
the  objects  which  lay  on  the  road  bet\\een 
Beaconsfield  and  St.  James's  Street.  AH  India 
was  present  to  the  eye  of  his  mind,  from  the  halls 
where  suitors  laid  gold  and  perfumes  at  the  feet 
of  sovereigns  to  the  wild  moor  where  the  gypsy 

5.  The  iinaum  or  iman,  is  a  Mohammedan  priest,  and  according  to 
the  rules  of  his  reHgion,  must  always  pray  with  his  face  toward  Mecca, 
the  sacred  city  of  the  Mohammedans. 


416  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

camp  was  pitched,  from  the  bazaar,  humming 
like  a  bee-hive  with  the  crowd  of  buyers  and 
sellers,  to  the  jungle  where  the  lonely  courier 
shakes  his  bunch  of  iron  rings  to  scare  away  the 
hyenas. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  personal 
antipathy  of  Francis,  or  the  nobler  indignation 
of  Burke,  would  have  led  their  party  to  adopt 
extreme  measure  against  Hastings,  if  his  own 
conduct  had  been  judicious.  He  should  have 
felt  that,  great  as  his  public  services  had  been, 
he  was  not  faultless,  and  should  have  been  con- 
tent to  make  his  escape,  without  aspiring  to  the 
honors  of  a  triumph.  He  and  his  agent  took  a 
different  view'.  They  were  impatient  for  the 
rewards  which,  as  thev  conceived,  were  deferred 
only  till  Burke's  attack  should  be  over.  They 
accordingly  resolved  to  force  on  a  decisive  action 
with  an  enemy  for  whom,  if  they  had  been  wise, 
they  would  have  made  a  bridge  of  gold.  On  the 
first  day  of  the  session  of  1786,  Major  Scott 
reminded  Burke  of  the  notice  given  in  the  pre- 
ceding year,  and  asked  whether  it  w^as  seriously 
intended  to  bring  any  charge  against  the  late 
Governor-General.  This  challenge  left  no  course 
open  to  the  Opposition,  except  to  come  forw^ard 
as  accusers,  or  to  acknowledge  themselves 
calumniators.  The  administration  of  Hastings 
had  not  been  so  blameless,  nor  was  the  great 
party  of  Fox^  and  North  so  feeble,  that  it  could 


C.  Charles  James  Fox  (1749-1806)  entered  Parliament  in  1768,  and 
a  few  years  later  was  given  his  first  position  in  the  Cabinet.  This  he 
soon  lost  because  of  his  opposition  to  the  policy  of  George  III  and  his 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  447 

be  prudent  to  venture  on  so  bold  a  defiance. 
The  leaders  of  the  Opposition  instantly  returned 
the  only  answer  which  they  could  with  honor 
return;  and  the  whole  party  was  irrevocably 
pledged  to  a  prosecution.  In  April,  the  charges 
were  laid  on  the  table.  They  had  been  drawn 
by  Burke  with  great  ability,  though  in  a  form 
too  much  resembling  that  of  a  pamphlet. 
Hastings  was  furnished  with  a  copy  of  the 
accusation;  and  it  was  intimated  to  him  that  he 
might,  if  he  thought  fit,  be  heard  in  his  own 
defence  at  the  bar  of  the  Commons. 

Here  again  Hastings  was  pursued  by  the  same 
fatality  which  had  attended  him  ever  since  the 
day  when  he  set  foot  on  English  ground.  It 
seemed  to  be  decreed  that  this  man,  so  politic 
and  so  successful  in  the  East,  should  commit 
nothing  but  blunders  in  Europe.  Any  judicious 
adviser  would  have  told  him  that  the  best  thing 
which  he  could  do  would  be  to  make  an  eloquent, 
forcible,  and  affecting  oration  at  the  bar  of  the 
House;  but  that,  if  he  could  not  trust  himself  to 
speak,  and  found  it  necessary  to  read,  he  ought 
to  be  as  concise  as  possible.  Audiences  ac- 
customed to  extemporaneous  debating  of  the 
highest  excellence  are  always  impatient  of  long 

prime  minister.  Lord  North.  For  years  the  brilliant  Fox  contendeti  with 
North,  objei^^-.ling  particularly  to  his  attitude  toward  the  Revolutionary 
War,  of  which  Fox  was  the  most  determined  and  able  opixment.  loiter 
he  formal  a  coalition  with  Nortii,  l)ut  this  laste<l  oidy  a  sliorl  tiuu-.  To 
the  end  of  hLs  life  Fox  was  active  on  all  subjects  of  public  inlcrest,  par- 
ticularly the  alxjiition  of  slave  trade  and  the  removal  of  the  |H>litical 
restrictioas  of  the  Catholics.  He  favore<l  the  French  Revolution,  and 
opposed  the  wur  with  France,  as,  in  fact,  he  opposed  much  of  Pitt's 
policy. 


448  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

written  compositions.  Hastings,  however,  sat 
down  as  he  would  have  done  at  the  Government- 
house  in  Bengal,  and  prepared  a  paper  of  im- 
mense length.  That  paper,  if  recorded  on  the 
consultations  of  an  Indian  administration,  would 
have  been  justly  praised  as  a  very  able  minute. 
But  it  was  now  out  of  place.  It  fell  flat,  as  the 
best  written  defence  must  have  fallen  flat,  on  an 
assembly  accustomed  to  the  animated  and 
strenuous  conflicts  of  Pitt  and  Fox.  The  mem- 
bers, as  soon  as  their  curiosity  about  the  face 
and  demeanor  of  so  eminent  a  stranger  was 
satisfied,  walked  away  to  dinner,  and  left  Has- 
tings to  tell  his  story  till  midnight  to  the  clerks 
and  the  Serjeant-at-arms. 

All  preliminary  steps  having  been  duly  taken, 
Burke,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  brought  forward 
the  charge  relating  to  the  Rohilla  War.  Has- 
tings was  absolved  by  a  hundred  and  nineteen 
votes  against  sixty-seven.  Now  was  he  con- 
fident of  victory,  and  indeed,  it  seemed  that  he 
had  reason  to  be  so. 

But  in  a  very  few  days  these  fair  prospects 
were  overcast.  On  the  thirteenth  of  June,  ^ir. 
Fox  brought  forward,  with  great  ability  and 
eloquence,  the  charge  respecting  the  treatment 
of  Cheyte  Sing.  Francis  followed  on  the  same 
side.  The  friends  of  Hastings  were  in  high 
spirits  when  Pitt  rose.  With  his  usual  abundance 
and  felicity  of  language,  the  Minister  gave  his 
opinion  on  the  case.  The  necessary  inference 
from  Pitt's  arguments  seemed  to  be  that  Has- 
tings ought  to  be  honorably  acquitted;  and  both 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  449 

the  friends  and  the  opponents  of  the  Minister 
expected  from  him  a  declaration  to  that  ejffect. 
To  the  astonishment  of  all  parties,  he  concluded 
by  sa}T[ng  that,  though  he  thought  it  right  in 
Hastings  to  fine  Cheyte  Sing  for  contumacy,  yet 
the  amount  of  the  fine  was  too  great  for  the 
occasion.  On  this  ground,  and  on  this  ground 
alone,  did  Mr.  Pitt,  applauding  every  other  part 
of  the  conduct  of  Hastings  with  regard  to 
Benares,  declare  that  he  should  vote  in  favor  of 
Mr.  Fox's  motion. 

The  House  was  thunderstruck;  and  it  well 
might  be  so.  For  the  wrong  done  to  Cheyte 
Sing,  even  had  it  been  as  flagitious  as  Fox  and 
Francis  contended,  was  a  trifle  when  compared 
with  the  horrors  which  had  been  inflicted  on 
Rohilcund.  It  was  impossible  even  for  the  most 
powerful  minister  to  carry  all  his  followers  \\  ith 
him  in  so  strange  a  course.  Several  persons 
high  in  office  divided  against  Mr.  Pitt.  But  the 
devoted  adherents  who  stood  by  the  head  of  the 
government  without  asking  questions  were  suffi- 
ciently numerous  to  turn  the  scale.  A  hundred 
and  nineteen  members  voted  for  Mr.  Fox's 
motion;  seventy-nine  against  it. 

The  prorogation  soon  interrupted  the  dis- 
cussions respecting  Hastings.  In  the  following 
year,  these  discussions  were  resumed.  The 
charge  touching  the  spoliation  of  the  Begum?; 
was  brought  forward  by  Sheridan,'  in  a  speech 

7.  Ricluinl  Brinsley  Sheridan  (17.51-181(3),  was  famous  Itotli  us  a 
•Iramatist  and  as  a  statesman.  The  Ulrals  an<l  the  School  fur  Scatul.il 
are  certainly  among  the  Ix-st  comrtlics  written  since  the  time  of  Shake- 


450  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings 

which  was  so  imperfectly  reported  that  it  may 
be  said  to  be  wholly  lost,  but  which  was,  without 
doubt,  the  most  elaborately  brilliant  of  all  the 
productions  of  his  ingenious  mind.  The  im- 
pression which  it  produced  was  such  as  has  never 
been  equaled.  He  sat  down,  not  merely  amidst 
cheering,  but  amidst  the  loud  clapping  of  hands, 
in  which  the  Lords  below  the  bar  and  the  stran- 
gers in  the  gallery  joined.  The  excitement  of 
the  House  was  such  that  no  other  speaker  could 
obtain  a  hearing;  and  the  debate  was  adjourned. 
The  ferment  spread  fast  through  the  town. 
Within  four  and  twenty  hours,  Sheridan  was 
offered  a  thousand  pounds  for  the  copyright  of 
the  speech,  if  he  would  himself  correct  it  for  the 
press.  The  impression  made  by  this  remarkable 
display  of  eloquence  on  severe  and  experienced 
critics,  whose  discernment  may  be  supposed  to 
have  been  quickened  by  emulation,  was  deep 
and  permanent.  Mr.  Windham,^  twenty  years 
later,  said  that  the  speech  deserved  all  its  fame, 
and  was,  in  spite  of  some  faults  of  taste,  such  as 
were  seldom  wanting  either  in  the  literary  or  in 
the  parliamentary  performances  of  Sheridan,  the 
finest  that  had  been  delivered  within  the  memory 
of  man.  Mr.  Fox,  about  the  same  time,  being 
asked  what  was  the  best  speech  ever  made  in  the 

speare,  and  would  have  made  him  famous  had  he  done  naught  else. 
Like  Fox,  be  opposed  the  war  with  America,  and  one  speech  of  his  was 
so  mubterly  that  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  offered  him  as  a  reward 
about  $100,000,  which  he  declined. 

8.  William  Windham  (1750-1810)  was  an  EngUsh  statesman,  who 
held  various  offices,  first  under  Fox,  then  under  Fox's  opponent,  Pitt,  and 
then  again  under  Fox.  His  chief  work  was  a  series  of  reforms  in  the 
army,  to  which  he  devoted  himself,  whatever  party  he  was  working  with. 


Impeachment  of  Warkex  Hastings  451 

House  of  Commons,  assigned  the  first  place, 
without  hesitation,  to  the  great  oration  of  Sheri- 
dan on  the  Oude  charge. 

AVhen  the  debate  was  resumed,  the  tide  ran  so 
strongly  against  the  accused  that  his  friends  were 
coughed  and  scraped  down.  Pitt  declared  him- 
self for  Sheridan's  motion;  and  the  question  was 
carried  by  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  votes 
against  sixty-eight. 

At  length  the  House,  having  agreed  to  twenty 
articles  of  charge,  directed  Burke  to  go  before 
the  Lords,  and  to  impeach  the  late  Governor- 
General  of  High  Crimes  and  Misdemeanors.' 
Hastings  was  at  the  same  time  arrested  by  the 
Serjeant-at-arms  and  carried  to  the  bar  of  the 
Peers. 

The  session  was  now  within  ten  days  of  its 
close.  It  was,  therefore,  impossible  that  any 
progress  could  be  made  in  the  trial  till  the  next 
year.  Hastings  was  admitted  to  bail;  and 
further  proceedings  were  postponed  till  the 
Houses  should  re-assemble. 

When  Parliament  met  in  the  following  winter, 
the  Commons  proceeded  to  elect  a  committee  for 
managing  the  impeachment.  Burke  stood  at 
the  head;  and  with  him  were  associated  most  of 
the  leading  members  of  the  Opposition.  But 
when  the  name  of  Francis  was  read  a  fierce  con- 
tention arose.  It  was  said  that  Francis  and 
Hastings  were  notoriously  on  bad   terms,  that 

9.  In  im|)oachraent  cases  in  England,  the  prosecutor  is  the  House  of 
Commons,  while  the  court  before  wliich  the  case  is  Irieii  is  the  House  of 
Lords. 


4.V2    ImPKAOI  Mill-NT    (»l      WaJ{HK\     HaSTIxXGS 

they  had  been  at  feud  during  many  years,  that 
on  one  occasion  their  mutual  aversion  had  im- 
pelled them  to  seek  each  other's  lives,  and  that 
it  would  be  improper  and  indelicate  to  select  a 
private  enemy  to  be  a  public  accuser.  It  was 
urged  on  the  other  side  with  great  force,  par- 
ticularly by  Mr.  Windham,  that  impartiality, 
though  the  first  duty  of  a  judge,  had  never  been 
reckoned  among  the  qualities  of  an  advocate; 
that  in  the  ordinary  administration  of  criminal 
justice  among  the  English,  the  aggrieved  party, 
the  very  last  person  who  ought  to  be  admitted 
into  the  jury-box,  is  the  prosecutor;  that  what 
was  wanted  in  a  manager  was,  not  that  he  should 
be  free  from  bias,  but  that  he  should  be  able, 
well-informed,  energetic,  and  active.  The  abil- 
ity and  information  of  Francis  was  admitted; 
and  the  very  animosity  Avith  which  he  was 
reproached,  whether  a  virtue  or  a  vice,  was  at 
least  a  pledge  for  his  energy  and  activity.  It 
seems  difficult  to  refute  these  arguments.  But 
the  inveterate  hatred  borne  by  Francis  to  Has- 
tings had  excited  general  disgust.  The  House 
decided  that  Francis  should  not  be  a  manager. 
Pitt  voted  with  the  majority,  Dundas  with  the 
minority. 

The  preparations  for  the  trial  proceeded 
rapidly;  and  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,  1788, 
the  sittings  of  the  Court  commenced.  There 
have  been  spectacles  more  dazzling  to  the  eye, 
more  gorgeous  with  jewelry  and  cloth  of  gold, 
more  attractive  to  grown-up  children,  than  that 
which  was  then  exhibited  at  Westminster;  but. 


Impeachment  of  Warrex  Hastings  453 

perhaps,  there  never  Avas  a  spectacle  so  well 
calculated  to  strike  a  highly  cultivated,  a  reflect- 
ing, an  imaginative  mind.  All  the  various  kinds 
of  interest  which  belong  to  the  near  and  to  the 
distant,  to  the  present  and  to  the  past,  were 
collected  on  one  spot  and  in  one  hour.  All  the 
talents  and  all  the  accomplishments  which  are 
developed  by  liberty  and  civilization  were  now 
displayed,  with  every  advantage  that  could  be 
derived  both  from  co-operation  and  from  con- 
trast. Every  step  in  the  proceedings  carried  the 
mind  either  backward,  through  many  troubled 
centuries,  to  the  days  when  the  foundations  of 
our  constitution  were  laid;  or  far  away,  over 
boundless  seas  and  deserts,  to  dusky  nations 
living  under  strange  stars,  worshipping  strange 
gods,  and  writing  strange  characters  from  right 
to  left.  The  Hio-h  Court  of  Parliament  was  to 
sit,  according  to  forms  handed  down  from  the 
days  of  the  Plantagenets,'"  on  an  Englishman 
accused  of  exercising  tyranny  over  the  lord  of  the 
holy  city  of  Benares,  and  over  the  ladies  of  the 
princely  house  of  Oude. 

The  place  was  worthy  of  such  a  trial,  ll  was 
the  <rreat  hall  of  William  Rufus,  the  hall  which 
had  resounded  with  acclamations  at  the  in- 
auguration of  thirty  kings,  the  hall  which  had 
witnessed  the  just  sentence  of  Hacoii"  and   llic 

10.  Tlie  first  of  the  royal  lioiisf  of  llic  Plantaj^'oiK-ls  wits  Ilciirv  M, 
who  came  to  tlie  throne  of  Kii^hmd  in  ll.H;  the  last  \vii,s  KirhanI  II 
n.'}77-i:5{)9).  Some  of  the  ablest  kings  who  liavc  ever  riil<<l  I'.ii^laml 
were  of  this  house. 

11.  Francis  Haron,  Ixml  Venilam  fl.>(ll  l({'2r»),  was  a  great  I'nglish 
|)hilo.soj>her  and  stalr-snian.      lie  cnlcrcfl  l'ar!iarn<-nt  at  Ihirtv-funr,  held 

Vol.  IX.  -:50. 


4o4    l.Ml'KACILME.NT    OF    WaKKEX    HASTINGS 

just  absolution  of  Souiers,'-  the  hall  where  the 
eloquence  of  Strall'ord''*  had  for  a  moment  awed 
and  melted  a  victorious  party  inflamed  with  just 
resentment,  the  hall  where  Charles'*  had  con- 
fronted the  High  Court  of  Justice  with  the  placid 
courage  which  has  half  redeemed  his  fame. 
Neither  military  nor  civil  pomp  was  wanting. 
The  avenues  were  lined  with  grenadiers.  Tlie 
streets  were  kept  clear  by  cavalry.  The  peers, 
robed  in  gold  and  ermine,  were  marshalled  by 
the  heralds  under  Garter  King-at-arms.  The 
judges  in  their  vestments  of  state  attended  to  give 
advice  on  points  of  law.  Near  a  hundred  and 
seventy  lords,  three-fourths  of  the  Upper  House 
as  the  Upper  House  then  was,  walked  in  solemn 
order  from  their  usual  place  of  assembling  to  the 

various  offices,  and  in  1618  was  made  lord  high  chancellor.  Accused  of 
corruption  as  a  judge,  he  pleaded  guilty,  was  fined  $!iOO,000,  and  sen- 
tenced to  imprisonment.  Although  the  sentence  was  afterward  practi- 
cally remitted,  he  was  disgraced  for  life.  Bacon  is  known  now  chiefly 
through  his  Essays. 

li.  John  Somers  (1651-1716)  was  an  English  lawyer  and  statesman, 
lie  held  offices  of  increasing  importance,  and  in  1697  was  raised  to  the 
peerage  and  made  lord  chancellor  of  England.  Three  years  later  he 
was  removed  from  office,  and  impeachment  proceedings  were  begim 
against  him.     They  were,  however,  soon  dropped. 

13.  Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford  (1593-1641)  was  an 
English  statesman,  chief  sujjportcr  of  Charles  I  in  his  absolutist  policy. 
Early  in  his  career  he  sided  with  Parliament  and  attempted  to  check 
Charles,  but  feeling  that  Parliament  was  going  too  far,  he  joined  Charles. 
In  Ireland,  as  lord  deputy,  he  made  himself  intensely  unpopular,  and 
after  his  return  to  England  he  drew  upon  himself,  by  his  arbitrary 
character,  the  hatred  of  Parliament.  At  length  a  bill  of  attainder  was 
passed  against  him,  and  was  signed  by  Charles  I,  who  had  assured 
Strafford  that  no  harm  should  ever  come  to  him  by  reason  of  his  al- 
legiance to  the  king.     In  May,  1641,  he  was  beheaded. 

14.  This  was,  of  course,  Charles  I,  who  when  condemned  to  death 
met  his  fate  with  such  dignity  and  composure  that  many  who  had  been 
in  favor  of  hLs  execution  regarded  him  afterward  as  a  martyr  and  a  saint. 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  455 

tribunal.  The  junior  Baron  present  lead  the 
way,  George  Eliott,  Lord  Heathfield,  recently 
ennobled  for  his  memorable  defense  of  Gibraltar 
against  the  fleets  and  armies  of  France  and  Spain. 
The  long  procession  was  closed  by  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  Earl  Marshal  of  the  realm,  by  the  great 
dignitaries,  and  by  the  brothers  and  sons  of  the 
King.  Last  of  all  came  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
conspicuous  by  his  fine  person  and  noble  bearing. 
The  gray  old  walls  were  hung  with  scarlet.  The 
long  galleries  were  crowded  by  an  audience  such 
as  has  rarely  excited  the  fears  or  the  emulations 
of  an  orator.  They  were  gathered  together, 
from  all  parts  of  a  great,  free,  enlightened,  and 
prosperous  empire,  grace  and  female  loveliness, 
wit  and  learning,  the  representatives  of  every 
science  and  of  every  art.  There  were  seated 
round  the  Queen  the  fair-haired  young  daughters 
of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  There  the  Am- 
bassadors of  great  Kings  and  Commonwealths 
gazed  with  admiration  on  a  spectacle  which  no 
other  country  in  the  world  could  present.  There 
Siddons,'^  in  the  prime  of  her  majestic  beauty, 
looked  with  emotion  on  a  scene  sui-passing  all 
the  imitations  of  the  stage.  There  the  historian 
of  the  Roman  Empire  thought  of  the  days  when 
Cicero  pleaded  the  cause  of  Sicily  against  Verres,'" 


15.  Mrs.  Sarah  Siddous  (1755-1831)  was  one  of  tlie  greatest,  iRM-liaps 
the  greatest,  of  J^ngli.-ih  tragir  acfrfsscs. 

16.  Verrcs  wa.s  a  Roman  Politifian,  governor  of  Sicily.  Affiiscd  l>y 
the  Sicilians  of  oppression  and  rol>l)cry,  he  was  Ijrouglit  to  trial,  Cicero 
managing  tlie  prosecution,  f'icero  i)rei)ared  six  orations,  hut  after  the 
first,  Verres,  .seeing  that  liis  gnilt  would  he  cle;irly  eslaljiished,  (led  from 
Italy. 


4.56  Impeachmknt  of  Warren  Hastings 

and  when,  before  a  senate  which  still  retained 
some  show  of  freedom,  Tacitus  thundered 
against  the  oppressor  of  Africa. ^^  There  were 
seen  side  by  side  the  greatest  painter  and  the 
greatest  scholar  of  the  age.  The  spectacle  had 
allured  Reynolds'^  from  that  easel  which  pre- 
served to  us  the  thoughtful  foreheads  of  so  many 
writers  and  statesmen,  and  the  sweet  smiles  of  so 
many  noble  matrons.  It  had  induced  Parr'"  to 
suspend  his  labors  in  that  dark  and  profound 
mine  from  which  he  had  extracted  a  vast  treasure 
of  erudition,  a  treasure  too  often  buried  in  the 
earth,  too  often  paraded  with  injudicious  and  in- 
elegant ostentation,  but  still  precious,  massive, 
and  splendid.  There  appeared  the  voluptuous 
charms  of  her  to  whom  the  heir  of  the  throne  had 
in  secret  plighted  his  faith. -°  There  were  the 
members  of  that  brilliant  society  which  quoted, 
criticized,  and  exchanged  repartees,  under  the 
rich  peacock-hangings  of  Mrs.  Montagu.'^  And 
there  the  ladies  whose  lips,  more  persuasive  than 
those  of  Fox  himself,  had  carried  the  West- 
minster election  against  palace  and  treasury, 
shone  around  Georgiana  Duchess  of  Devonshire. 

17.  The  "oppressor  of  Africa"  was  Marius  Priscus,  who  was  suc- 
cessfully prosecuted  by  Tacitus  and  his  friend  Pliny  the  Younger. 

18.  Sir  Joshua  RejTiolds  (1723-1792),  the  most  famous  English 
portrait  painter. 

19.  Samuel  Parr  (1747-1825),  a  once  noted  English  scholar. 

20.  This  was  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  whom  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterward 
George  I\',  had  secretly  married  in  1785.  Later,  wishing  to  obtain  help 
from  Parliament  for  the  payment  of  his  debts,  he  allowed  the  marriage 
to  be  denied  in  Parliament. 

21.  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Montagu  (1720-1800)  was  an  English  society 
leader,  who  numbered  among  her  regular  visitors  Horace  Walpole,  Dr. 
Johnson,  Burke  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  457 

The  Serjeants  made  proclamation.  Hastings 
advanced  to  the  bar,  and  bent  his  knee.  The 
culprit  was  indeed  not  unworthy  of  that  great 
presence.  He  had  ruled  an  extensive  and  popu- 
lous country,  had  made  laws  and  treaties,  had 
sent  forth  armies,  had  set  up  and  pulled  down 
princes.  And  in  his  high  place  he  had  so  borne 
himself,  that  all  had  feared  him,  that  most  had 
loved  him,  and  that  hatred  itself  could  deny  him 
no  title  to  glory,  except  virtue.  He  looked  like 
a  great  man,  and  not  like  a  bad  man.  A  person 
small  and  emaciated,  yet  deriving  dignity  from  a 
carriage  which,  while  it  indicated  deference  to 
the  court,  indicated  also  habitual  self-possession 
and  self-respect,  a  high  and  intellectual  forehead, 
a  brow  pensive,  but  not  gloomy,  a  mouth  of  in- 
flexible decision,  a  face  pale  and  worn,  but  serene, 
on  which  was  written,  as  legibly  as  under  the 
picture  in  the  council-chamber  at  Calcutta, 
Mens  oequa  in  ardiiis;^^  such  was  the  aspect  with 
which  the  great  Proconsul  presented  himself  to 
his  judges. 

His  counsel  accompanied  him,  men  all  of  whom 
were  afterwards  raised  by  their  talents  and  learn- 
ing to  the  highest  posts  in  their  profession.  But 
neither  the  culprit  nor  his  advocates  attracted  so 
much  notice  as  the  accusers.  In  the  midst  of  the 
blaze  of  red  drapery,  a  space  had  been  fitted  up 
with  green  benches  and  tables  for  the  Commons. 
The  managers,  with  Burke  at  their  head,  ap- 
peared in  full  dress.  The  collectors  of  gossip  did 
not  fail  to  remark  that  even  Fox,  generally  so 

22.  That  is,  a  mind  calm  in  dijficulties. 


458  Impeachment  of  Wakrex  Hastings 

regardless  of  his  appearance,  had  paid  to  the 
ilhistrious  tribunal  the  compliment  of  wearing 
a  bag  and  sword.  Pitt  had  refused  to  be  one  of 
the  conductors  of  the  impeachment;  and  his 
commanding,  copious,  and  sonorous  eloquence 
was  wanting  to  that  great  muster  of  various  tal- 
ents. Afje  and  blindness  had  unfitted  Lord 
Xorth  for  the  duties  of  a  public  prosecutor;  and 
his  friends  were  left  without  the  helf)  of  his  ex- 
cellent sense,  his  tact,  and  his  urbanity.  But, 
in  spite  of  the  aVjsence  of  these  two  distinguished 
members  of  the  Lower  House,  the  box  in  which 
the  managers  stood  contained  an  array  of  speak- 
ers such  as  perhaps  had  not  appeared  together 
since  the  great  age  of  Athenian  eloquence.  There 
were  Fox  and  Sheridan,  the  English  Demos- 
thenes and  the  English  H^'perides.-^  There  was 
Burke,  ignorant  indeed,  or  negligent  of  the  art 
of  adapting  his  reasonings  and  his  style  to  the 
capacity  and  taste  of  his  hearers,  but  in  ampli- 
tude of  comprehension  and  richness  of  imagina- 
tion superior  to  everv  orator,  ancient  or  modern. 
There,  with  eyes  reverentially  fixed  on  Burke, 
appeared  the  finest  gentleman  of  the  age,  his 
form  developed  by  ever}'  manly  exercise,  his  face 
h>eaming  with  intelligence  and  spirit,  the  ingeni- 
ous, the  chivalrous,  the  high-souled  Windham. 
Xor,  though  surrounded  by  such  men,  did  the 
youngest  manager  pass  unnoticed.     At  an  age 


23.  Hyperides  was  a  celebrated  Athenian  orator,  who  lived  in  the 
fourth  century-  B.  C.  He  was,  throuj^h  part  of  his  life,  a  friend  and 
associate  of  Demosthenes,  whom  some  critics  c-onsidered  that  he  sur- 
passed in  oratory. 


Impeachment  of  ^\arrex  Hastings  459 

when  most  of  those  who  distinguish  themselves 
in  hfe  are  still  contending  for  prizes  and  fellow- 
ships at  college,  he  had  won  for  himself  a  con- 
spicuous place  in  Parliament.  Xo  advantage 
of  fortune  or  connection  was  wanting  that  could 
set  off  to  the  height  his  splendid  talents  and  his 
unblemished  honor.  At  twenty-three  he  had 
been  thought  worthy  to  be  ranked  with  the 
veteran  statesmen  who  appeared  as  the  delegates 
of  the  British  Commons,  at  the  bar  of  the  British 
nobility.  All  who  stood  at  that  bar,  save  him 
alone,  are  gone,  culprit,  advocates,  accusers. 
To  the  generation  which  is  now  in  the  vigor  of 
life,  he  is  the  sole  representative  of  a  great  age 
which  has  passed  away.  But  those  who.  within 
the  last  ten  years,  have  listened  with  delight,  till 
the  morning  sun  shone  on  the  tapestries  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  to  the  lofty  and  animated  elo- 
quence of  Charles  Earl  Grey,-^  are  able  to  form 
some  estimate  of  the  ])owers  of  a  race  of  men 
among  whom  he  was  not  the  foremost. 

The  charixes  and  the  answers  of  Ilastiniis  were 
first  read.  The  ceremony  occupied  two  whole 
days,  and  was  rendered  less  tedious  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  been  by  the  silver  voice  and  just 
emphasis  of  Cowper,  the  clerk  of  the  court,  a 
near  relation  of  the  amiable  poet.      On  the  third 

H.  Charles,  Karl  Grey  (1764-1845'),  had,  as  Macaulay  here  intimates, 
hut  just  lx'j,niii  his  i>olitical  career.  It  was  a  loiif;  aiul  hrilliant  oue.  anil 
throughout  it, lie  was  concemeci  chiefly  with  the  ()ueslioii  of  rnrlianieiitary 
reform.  Several  times  he  |»reseiite<l  ]Htitions  for  such  reform,  hut  it  was 
not  imtil  1S:1'2.  when  he  had  l>een  twcnty-thrcT  years  in  the  Hf>u>e  of 
Ixmis,  that  he  s\icTee<le<l  iti  juittiiiR  thnni^h  lK>lh  hoiises  of  rarliament 
the  hill  whirl)  <li<l  away  with  many  of  the  abuses  in  the  ele<-tions  to  the 
lluusc  of  Commons. 


4(J()    l.MPKArHMKXT    OF    WaRREN    HASTINGS 

(lay  Burke  rose.  Four  sittings  were  occupied 
by  his  opening  speech,  which  was  intended  to  be 
a  general  introduction  to  all  the  charges.  With 
an  exuberance  of  thought  and  a  splendor  of 
diction  which  more  than  satisfied  the  highly 
raised  expectation  of  the  audience,  he  described 
the  character  and  institutions  of  the  natives  of 
India,  recounted  the  circumstances  in  which  the 
Asiatic  empire  of  Britain  had  originated,  and  set 
forth  the  constitution  of  the  Company  and  of  the 
English  presidencies.  Having  thus  attempted 
to  communicate  to  his  hearers  an  idea  of  Eastern 
society,  as  vivid  as  that  which  existed  in  his  own 
mind,  he  proceeded  to  arraign  the  administration 
of  Hastings  as  systematically  conducted  in  defi- 
ance of  morality  and  public  law.  The  energy 
and  pathos  of  the  great  orator  extorted  expres- 
sions of  unwonted  admiration  from  the  stern  and 
hostile  Chancellor,  and,  for  a  moment,  seemed 
to  pierce  even  the  resolute  heart  of  the  defendant. 
The  ladies  in  the  galleries,  unaccustomed  to  such 
displays  of  eloquence,  excited  by  the  solemnity 
of  the  occasion,  and  perhaps  not  unwilling  to 
display  their  taste  and  sensibility,  were  in  a  state 
of  uncontrollable  emotion.  Handkerchiefs  were 
pulled  out;  smelling  bottles  Avere  handed  round; 
hysterical  sobs  and  screams  were  heard;  and  Mrs. 
Sheridan  was  carried  out  in  a  fit.  At  length  the 
orator  concluded.  Raising  his  voice  till  the  old 
arches  of  Irish  oak  resounded,  "Therefore," 
said  he,  "hath  it  with  all  confidence  been  ordei:ed 
by  the  Commons  of  Great  Britain,  that  I  im- 
peach Warren  Hastings  of  high  crimes  and  mis- 


Impeachment  of  Warrex  Hastings  461 

aemeanors.  I  impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the 
Commons'  House  of  Parhament,  whose  trust  he 
has  betrayed.  I  impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the 
EngHsh  nation,  whose  ancient  honor  he  has 
sulhed.  I  impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the  people 
of  India,  whose  rights  he  has  trodden  under  foot, 
and  whose  country  he  has  turned  into  a  desert. 
Lastly,  in  the  name  of  human  nature  itself,  in  the 
name  of  both  sexes,  in  the  name  of  every  age,  in 
the  name  of  every  rank,  I  impeach  the  common 
enemy  and  oppressor  of  all!" 

WTien  the  deep  murmur  of  various  emotions 
had  subsided,  Mr.  Fox  rose  to  address  the  Lords 
respecting  the  course  of  proceeding  to  be  fol- 
lowed. The  wish  of  the  accusers  was  that  the 
Court  would  bring  to  a  close  the  investigation  of 
the  first  charge  before  the  second  was  opened. 
The  wish  of  Hastings  and  of  his  counsel  was  that 
the  managers  should  open  all  the  charges,  and 
produce  all  the  evidence  for  the  prosecution,  be- 
fore the  defence  began.  The  Lords  retired  to 
their  own  House  to  consider  the  question.  A 
majority  of  near  three  to  one  decided  in  favor  of 
the  course  for  which  Ilastino-s  contended. 

When  the  Court  sat  again,  Mr.  Fox,  assisted 
by  Mr.  Grey, opened  the  charge  respecting  Cheyte 
Sing,  and  several  days  were  spent  in  reading 
papers  and  hearing  witnesses.  The  next  article 
was  that  relating  to  the  Princesses  of  Oude. 
The  conduct  of  this  part  of  the  case  was  intrusted 
to  Sheridan.  The  curiosity  of  the  })ubli('  to  hear 
him  was  unl)Ounded.  His  sj)arkling  and  highly 
finished   declainalion   lasted    two   days;   but   the 


4()'2    iMrKAC'lI.MENT    OF    WaRREN    HaSTINGS 

Hall  was  crowded  to  siiflocation  during  the  whole 
time.  It  was  said  that  fifty  guineas  had  been 
paid  for  a  single  ticket.  Sheridan,  when  he  con- 
cluded, contrived,  with  a  knowledge  of  stage 
eli'ect  which  his  father  might  have  en  vied, ^^  to 
sink  back,  as  if  exhausted,  into  the  arms  of 
Burke,  who  hugged  him  with  the  energy  of  gen- 
erous admiration. 

June  was  now  far  advanced.  The  session 
could  not  last  much  longer;  and  the  progress 
which  had  been  made  in  the  impeachment  was 
not  very  satisfactory.  There  were  twenty 
charges.  On  two  only  of  these  had  even  the 
case  for  the  prosecution  been  heard;  and  it  was 
now  a  year  since  Hastings  had  been  admitted  to 
bail. 

The  interest  taken  by  the  public  in  the  trial 
was  great  when  the  Court  began  to  sit,  and  rose 
to  the  height  when  Sheridan  spoke  on  the  charge 
relating  to  the  Begums.  From  that  time  the 
excitement  went  down  fast.  The  spectacle  had 
lost  the  attraction  of  novelty.  The  great  dis- 
plays of  rhetoric  were  over.  AMiat  was  behind 
was  not  of  a  nature  to  entice  men  of  letters  from 
their  books  in  the  morning,  or  to  tempt  ladies 
who  had  left  the  masquerade  at  two  to  be  out  of 
bed  before  eight.  There  remained  examina- 
tions and  cross-examinations.  There  remained 
statements  of  accounts.  There  remained  the 
reading  of  papers,  filled  with  words  unintelligible 
to  English  ears;  there  remained  bickerings,  not 
always  carried  on  with  the  best  taste  or  with  the 

25.  Sheridan's  father,  Thomas  Sheridan,  was  an  actor. 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  463 

best  temper,  between  the  managers  of  the  im- 
peachment and  the  counsel  for  the  defence, 
particularly  between  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Law. 
There  remained  the  endless  marches  and  coun- 
ter-marches of  the  Peers  between  their  House 
and  the  Hall,  for  as  often  as  a  point  of  law  was 
to  be  discussed,  their  Lordships  retired  to  discuss 
it  apart;  and  the  consequence  was,  as  a  Peer 
wittily  said,  that  the  judges  walked  and  the  trial 
stood  still. 

In  the  session  of  1788,  when  the  proceedings 
had  the  interest  of  novelty,  and  when  the  Peers 
had  little  other  business  before  them,  only  thirty- 
five  days  were  given  to  the  impeachment.  In 
1789,  only  seventeen  days  were  given  to  the  case 
of  Hastinos.  It  was  clear  that  the  matter  would 
be  protracted  to  a  length  unprecedented  m  the 
annals  of  criminal  law. 

At  length,  in  the  spring  of  1795,  the  decision 
was  pronounced,  near  eight  years  after  Hastings 
had  been  brought  by  the  Serjeant-at-arms  of  the 
Commons  to  the  bar  of  the  Lords.  On  the  last 
day  of  this  great  procedure  the  public  curiosity, 
long  suspended,  seemed  to  be  revived.  Anxiety 
about  the  judgment  there  could  l)e  none;  for  it 
had  been  fully  ascertained  that  there  was  a  great 
majority  for  the  defendant.  Nevertheless  many 
wished  to  see  the  pageant,  and  the  Hall  was  as 
much  crowded  as  on  the  first  day.  Hut  those 
who,  having  })een  |)resent  on  the  first  day,  now 
bore  a  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the  last,  were 
few;  and   most   of  lliose   few   were  altered   men. 

As  Hastings  liiinscir  said,  the  arraignment  had 


464    I.MPKAC'UMKNT    OF    WaRREX    HASTINGS 

taken  place  before  one  generation,  and  the  judg- 
ment was  pronounced  bv  another.  The  spec- 
tator could  not  look  at  the  woolsack,  or  at  the 
red  benches  of  the  Peers,  or  at  the  green  benches 
of  the  Commons,  without  seeing  something  that 
reminded  him  of  the  instability  of  all  human 
things,  of  the  instability  of  power  and  fame  and 
life,  of  the  more  lamentable  instability  of  friend- 
ship. The  great  seal  was  borne  before  Lord 
Loughborough,  who,  when  the  trial  commenced, 
was  a  fierce  opponent  of  ]Mr.  Pitt's  government, 
and  who  was  now  a  member  of  that  government, 
while  Thurlow,  who  presided  in  the  Court  when 
it  first  sat,  estranged  from  all  his  old  allies,  sat 
scowling  among  the  junior  barons.  Of  about 
a  hundred  and  sixty  nobles  who  walked  in 
procession  on  the  first  day,  sixty  had  been  laid 
in  their  family  vaults.  Still  more  affecting  must 
have  been  the' sight  of  the  managers'  box.  ^Vhat 
had  become  of  that  fair  fellowship,  so  closely 
bound  together  by  public  and  private  ties,  so  re- 
splendent with  every  talent  and  accomplishment  ? 
It  had  been  scattered  by  calamities  more  bitter 
than  the  bitterness  of  death.  The  great  chiefs 
were  still  li\dng,  and  still  in  the  full  vigor  of  their 
genius.  But  their  friendship  was  at  an  end.  It 
had  been  violently  and  publicly  dissolved,  with 
tears  and  stormy  reproaches.  If  those  men, 
once  so  dear  to  each  other,  were  now  compelled 
to  meet  for  the  purpose  of  managing  the  impeach- 
ment, they  met  as  strangers  whom  public  busi- 
ness had  JDrought  together,  and  behaved  to  eacfe 
other  with  cold  and  distant  civility.     Burke  had 


Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  465 

in  his  vortex  whirled  away  Windham.     Fox  had 
been  followed  by  Sheridan  and  Grey. 

Only  twenty-nine  Peers  voted.  Of  these  only 
six  found  Hastings  guilty  on  the  charges  relating  to 
Cheyte  Sing  and  to  the  Begums.  On  the  other 
charges,  the  majority  in  his  favor  was  still  greater. 
On  some  he  was  unanimously  absolved.  He 
was  then  called  to  the  bar,  was  informed  from 
the  woolsack  that  the  Lords  had  acquitted  him, 
and  was  solemnly  discharged.  He  bowed  re- 
spectfully and  retired.'" 

26.  Hastings  passed  the  remaining  twenty-three  years  of  his  life  at 
Daylesford,  spending  his  time  in  reading  and  writing,  and  in  the  ordinary 
pursuits  of  a  country  gentleman.  The  East  Intiia  Company,  grateful 
for  his  ser\uces,  granted  him  a  large  annuity,  but  owing  to  his  extrava- 
gance he  was  often  in  diflicultics,  from  whidi  the  Company  always 
extricated  him.     lie  died  on  August  ^'-i,  1818. 


^\ 

.A^ 

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i^v 

r.rj. 

y  i 

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■^-ff^^^s*** 

\%s 

'  >^ 

^[ik 

^ 

A  DISSERTATION  UPON  ROAST  PIG 

CHARLES  LAMB 

ANKIND,  says  a, Chinese  man- 
uscript, which  my  friend  M. 
was  obHging  enough  to  read  and 
explain  to  me,^  for  the  first 
seventy  thousand  ages  ate  their 
meat  raw,  clawing  or  biting  it 
from  the  living  animal,  just 
as  they  do  in  A.byssinia  to  this  day.  This 
period  is  not  obscurely  hinted  at  by  their 
great  Confucius  in  the  second  chapter  of  his 
Mundane  Mutations,  where  he  designates  a  kind 
of  golden  age  by  the  term  Cho-fang,  literally  the 
Cook's  Holiday.  The  manuscript  goes  on  to 
say,  that  the  art  of  roasting,  or  rather  broiling 
(which  I  take  to  be  the  elder  brother),  was 
accidentally  discovered  in  the  manner  following: 
The  swineherd,  Ho-ti,  having  gone  out  into  the 
woods  one  morning,  as  his  manner  was,  to 
collect  mast  for  his  hogs,  left  his  cottage  in  the 
care  of  his  eldest  son.  Bo-bo,  a  great  lubberly 
boy,  who  being  fond  of  playing  with  fire,  as 
younkers  of  his  age  commonly  are,  let  some 
sparks  escape  into  a  bundle  of  straw,  which 
kindling  quickly,  spread  the  conflagration  over 

1.  A  friend  who  had  traveled  extensively  in  China  and  Thibet  told 
Lamb  this  story  of  the  origin  of  cooking.  We  do  not  know  that  the 
friend  found  the  story  current  in  China,  but  we  are  certain  that  it  is  found 
in  very  old  writings.  Of  course  the  quaint,  fanciful  form  of  the  story 
is  Lamb's  own. 

466 


Upon  Roast  Pig  467 

every  part  of  their  poor  mansion,  till  it  was 
reduced  to  ashes.  Too-ether  with  the  cottage 
(a  sorry  antediluvian  makeshift  of  a  building, 
you  may  think  it),  what  was  of  much  more 
importance,  a  fine  litter  of  new-farrowed  pigs, 
not  less  than  nine  in  number,  perished.  China 
pigs  have  been  esteemed  a  luxury  all  over  the 
East,  from  the  remotest  period  that  we  read 
of.  Bo-bo  was  in  the  utmost  consternation, 
as  you  may  think,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of 
the  tenement,  which  his  father  and  he  could 
easily  build  up  again  with  a  few  dry  branches, 
and  the  labor  of  an  hour  or  two,  at  any  time,  as 
for  the  loss  of  the  pigs.  While  he  was  thinking 
Avhat  he  should  say  to  his  father,  and  wringing 
his  hands  over  the  smoking  remnants  of  one  of 
those  untimely  sufferers,  an  odor  assailed  his 
nostrils,  unlike  any  scent  which  he  had  before 
experienced.  What  could  it  proceed  from  ? — not 
from  the  burnt  cottage, — he  had  smelt  that  smell 
before, — indeed  this  was  by  no  means  the  first 
accident  of  the  kind  which  had  occurred  through 
the  negligence  of  this  unlucky  young  firebrand. 
Much  less  did  it  resemble  that  of  any  known 
herl),  weed,  or  flower.  A  premonitory  moisten- 
ing at  the  same  time  overflowed  his  nether  lip. 
He  knew  not  what  to  think.  He  next  stooped 
down  to  feel  the  pig,  if  there  were  any  signs  of 
life  in  it.  He  burnt  his  fingers,  and  to  cool 
them  he  applied  them  in  his  booby  fashion  to 
his  mouth.  Some  of  the  crumbs  of  the  scorched 
skin  liad  come  away  with  his  fingers,  and  for 
the    first    time    in    his    life    (\u    tlw    world's    Iif(^ 


468  Upon  Roast  Pig 

indeed,  for  before  him  no  man  had  known  it) 
he  tasted — crackling !  Again  he  felt  and  fumbled 
at  the  pig.  It  did  not  burn  him  so  much  now, 
'still  he  licked  his  fingers  from  a  sort  of  habit. 
The  truth  at  length  broke  into  his  slow  under- 
standing, that  it  was  the  pig  that  smelt  so,  and 
the  pig  that  tasted  so  delicious;  and  surrendering 
himself  up  to  the  new-born  pleasure,  he  fell  to 
tearing  up  whole  handfuls  of  the  scorched  skin 
with  the  flesh  next  it,  and  was  cramming  it 
down  his  throat  in  his  beastly  fashion,  when  his 
sire  entered  amid  the  smoking  rafters,  armed 
with  retributory  cudgel,  and  finding  how  aft'airs 
stood,  began  to  rain  blows  upon  the  young 
rogue's  shoulders,  as  thick  as  hailstones,  which 
Bo-bo  heeded  not  any  more  than  if  they  had 
been  flies.  The  tickling  pleasure,  which  he 
experienced  in  his  lower  regions,  had  rendered 
him  quite  callous  to  any  inconveniences  he 
might  feel  in  those  remote  quarters.  His  father 
might  lay  on,  but  he  could  not  beat  him  from 
his  pig,  till  he  had  fairly  made  an  end  of  it, 
when,  becoming  a  little  more  sensible  of  his 
situation,  something  like  the  following  dialogue 
ensued : 

"You  graceless  whelp,  what  have  you  got 
there  devouring  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  you 
have  burnt  me  down  three  houses  with  your 
dog's  tricks,  and  be  hanged  to  you!  but  you  must 
be  eating  fire,  and  I  know  not  what;  what  have 
you  got  there,  I  say  .^" 

"O  father,  the  pig,  the  pig!  do  come  and 
taste  how  nice  the  burnt  pig  eats." 


Upon  Roast  Pig  469 

The  ears  of  Ho-ti  tingled  with  horror.  He 
cursed  his  son,  and  he  cursed  himself  that  ever 
he  should  beget  a  son  that  should  eat  burnt  pig. 

Bo-bo,  whose  scent  was  wonderfully  sharpened 
since  morning,  soon  raked  out  another  pig,  and 
fairly  rending  it  asunder,  thrust  the  lesser  half 
by  main  force  into  the  fists  of  Ho-ti,  still  shout- 
ing, "Eat,  eat,  eat  the  burnt  pig,  father,  only 
taste;  O  Lord!" — with  such-like  barbarous  ejac- 
ulations, cramming  all  the  while  as  if  he  would 
choke. 

Ho-ti  trembled  in  every  joint  while  he  grasped 
the  abominable  thing,  wavering  whether  he 
should  not  put  his  son  to  death  for  an  unnatural 
young  monster,  when  the  crackling  scorching 
his  fingers,  as  it  had  done  his  son's,  and  applying 
the  same  remedy  to  them,  he  in  his  turn  tasted 
some  of  its  flavor,  which,  make  what  sour 
mouths  he  would  for  a  pretense,  proved  not 
altogether  displeasing  to  him.  In  conclusion 
(for  the  manuscript  here  is  a  little  tedious)  both 
father  and  son  fairly  sat  down  to  the  mess  and 
never  left  off  until  they  had  dispatched  all  that 
remained  of  the  litter. 

Bo-bo  was  strictly  enjoined  not  to  let  the 
secret  escape,  for  the  neighbors  would  certainly 
have  stoned  them  for  a  couple  of  abominable 
wretches,  who  could  think  of  improving  upon 
the  good  meat  which  God  had  sent  them. 
Nevertheless,  strange  stories  got  about.  It  was 
observed  that  Ho-ti 's  cottage  was  Ijurnt  down 
now  more  frequently  than  ever.  Nothing  but 
fires    from    this    time    forward.     Some    would 

Vol,  IX -31. 


470  Upon  Roast  Pig 

break  out  in  broad  day,  others  in  the  night  time. 
As  often  as  the  sow  farrowed,  so  sure  was  the 
house  of  Ho-ti  to  be  in  a  blaze;  and  Ho-ti  him- 
self, which  was  the  more  remarkable,  instead  of 
chastising  his  son,  seemed  to  grow  more  in- 
dulgent to  him  than  ever.  At  length  they  were 
watched,  the  terrible  mystery  discovered,  and 
father  and  son  summoned  to  take  their  trial  at 
Pekin,  then  an  inconsiderable  assize  town.  Evi- 
dence was  given,  the  obnoxious  food  itself 
produced  in  court,  and  verdict  about  to  be 
pronounced,  when  the  foreman  of  the  jury  begged 
that  some  of  the  burnt  pig,  of  which  the  culprits 
stood  accused,  might  be  handed  into  the  box. 
He  handled  it  and  they  all  handled  it;  and 
burning  their  fingers,  as  Bo-bo  and  his  father 
had  done  before  them,  and  nature  prompting 
to  each  of  them  the  same  remedy,  against  the 
face  of  all  the  facts,  and  the  clearest  charge 
which  judge  had  ever  given, — to  the  surprise  of 
the  whole  court,  townsfolk,  strangers,  reporters, 
and  all  present, — without  leaving  the  box,  or  any 
manner  of  consultation  whatever,  they  brought 
in  a  simultaneous  verdict  of  Not  Guilty. 

The  judge,  who  was  a  shrewd  fellow,  winked 
at  the  manifest  iniquity  of  the  decision;  and 
when  the  court  was  dismissed,  went  privily,  and 
bought  up  all  the  pigs  that  could  be  had  for  love 
or  money.  In  a  few  days  his  Lordship's  town- 
house  was  observed  to  be  on  fire.  The  thing 
took  wing,  and  now  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  fire  in  every  direction.  Fuel  and  pigs 
grew  enormously  dear  all  over  the  district.     The 


Upon  Roast  Pig  471 

insurance  offices  one  and  all  shut  up  shop. 
People  built  slighter  and  slighter  every  day,  until 
it  was  feared  that  the  very  science  of  architecture 
would  in  no  long  time  be  lost  to  the  world.  Thus 
this  custom  of  firing  houses  continued,  till  in 
process  of  time,  says  my  manuscript,  a  sage 
arose,  like  our  Locke,  who  made  a  discovery, 
that  the  flesh  of  swine,  or  indeed  of  any  other 
animal,  might  be  cooked  (burnt,  as  they  called 
it)  without  the  necessity  of  consuming  a  whole 
house  to  dress  it.  Then  first  began  the  rude 
form  of  a  gridiron.  Roasting  by  the  string  or 
spit  came  in  a  century  or  two  later;  I  forget  in 
whose  dynasty.  *  *  *  *  Thus  do  the  most 
useful  arts  make  their  way  among  mankind. 

Without  placing  too  implicit  faith  in  the 
account  above  given,  it  must  be  agreed,  that 
if  a  worthy  pretext  for  so  dangerous  an  experi- 
ment as  setting  houses  on  fire  (especially  in  these 
days)  could  be  assigned  in  favor  of  any  culinary 
object,  that  pretext  and  excuse  might  be  found 

in  ROAST  PIG. 

Of  all  the  delicacies  in  the  whole  mundus 
edihilis,^  I  will  maintain  it  to  be  the  most 
delicate — princeps  ohsoniorum.^ 

I  speak  not  of  your  grown  porkers — things 
between  pig  and  ])ork — those  hobbydehoys — but 
a  young  and  tender  suckling — under  a  moon 
old — guiltless  as  yet  of  the  sty — with  no  original 
speck  of  the  amor  immunditiw,*  the  hereditary 

2.  MuTidiis  cdibilis  is  a  T«'ifiii  expression  inrauin<;  cdihlr  wnrLI. 

3.  Princeps  (jfj.foniorum  means  chief  of  rianiii. 

4.  This  is  a  Latio  phrase  mcaninj^  love  of  fillh. 


47^2  Upon  Roast  Pig 

failing  of  the  first  parent,  yet  manifest — his 
voice  as  vet  not  broken,  but  something:  between 
a  childish  treble  and  a  grumble — the  mild  fore- 
runner, or  proeludiurrv'  of  a  grunt. 

He  must  he  roasted.  I  am  not  ignorant  that 
our  ancestors  ate  them  seethed,  or  boiled, — but 
what  a  sacrifice  of  the  exterior  tegument! 

There  is  no  flavor  comparable,  I  will  contend, 
to  that  of  the  crisp,  tawny,  well-watched,  not 
over-roasted,  crackling,  as  it  is  well  called, — the 
very  teeth  are  invited  to  their  share  of  the 
pleasure  at  this  banquet  in  overcoming  the  coy, 
brittle  resistance, —  with  the  adhesive  oleagi- 
nous— O  call  it  not  fat!  but  an  indefinable 
sweetness  growing  up  to  it, — the  tender  blossom- 
ing of  fat — fat  cropped  in  the  bud — taken  in 
the  shoot — in  the  first  innocence — the  cream  and 
quintessence  of  the  child-pig's  yet  pure  food, 
— the  lean,  no  lean,  but  a  kind  of  animal 
manna, — or,  rather,  fat  and  lean  (if  it  must  be 
so)  so  blended  and  running  into  each  other,  that 
both  together  make  but  one  ambrosian  result,  or 
common  substance. 

Behold  him,  while  he  is  "doing" — it  seemeth 
rather  a  refreshing  warmth,  than  a  scorching 
heat,  that  he  is  so  passive  to.  How  equably  he 
twirleth  round  the  string!  Now  he  is  just  done. 
To  see  the  extreme  sensibility  of  that  tender 
age!  he  hath  wept  out  his  pretty  eyes — radiant 
jellies — shooting  stars. 

See  him  in  the  dish,  his  second  cradle,  how 
meek   he    lieth! — wouldst   thou   have   had    this 

6.  ProEludium  means  prelude. 


Upon  Roast  Pig  473 

innocent  grow  up  to  the  grossness  and  indocility 
which  too  often  accompany  maturer  swinehood  ? 
Ten  to  one  he  would  have  proved  a  glutton,  a 
sloven,  an  obstinate,  disagreeable  animal — 
wallowino:  in  all  manner  of  filthy  conversa- 
tion,— from  these  sins  he  is  happily  snatched 
away, — 

Ere  sin  could  blight  or  sorrow  fade, 
Death  came  with  timely  care* — 

his  memory  is  odoriferous, — no  clown  curseth, 
while  his  stomach  half  rejecteth,  the  rank  ba- 
con,— no  coal-heaver  bolteth  him  in  reeking 
sausages, — he  hath  a  fair  sepulcher  in  the  grateful 
stomach  of  the  judicious  epicure, — and  for  such 
a  tomb  might  be  content  to  die. 

He  is  the  best  of  sapors.  Pineapple  is  great. 
She  is  indeed  almost  too  transcendent — a  delight, 
if  not  sinful,  yet  so  like  to  sinning  that  really  a 
tender  conscienced  person  would  do  well  to 
pause — too  ravishing  for  mortal  taste,  she  wound- 
eth  and  excoriateth  the  lips  that  approach  her — 
like  lovers'  kisses  she  biteth — she  is  a  ])lcasuro 
bordering  on  pain  from  the  fierceness  and  insan- 
ity of  her  relish — ])ut  she  stoppetli  al  the  palate — 
she  meddleth  not  with  the  appetite — and  the 
coarsest  hunger  might  barter  her  consistently  for 
a  mutton  chop. 

Pig — let  me  speak  his  praise — is  no  less  pro- 
vocative of  the  apj)etite,  than  he  is  satisfactory 
to  the  criticaliicss  of  the  consorious  palate.     Tlu^ 

0.  From  Coleridge's  Epilai'h  on  an  Infant. 


474  Upon  Roast  Pig 

strong  man  may  batten  on  him,  and  the  weakHng 
refiiseth  not  his  mild  juices. 

Unhke  to  mankind's  mixed  characters,  a 
bundle  of  virtues  and  vices,  inexplicably  inter- 
twisted, and  not  to  be  unraveled  without  hazard, 
he  is — good  throughout.  No  part  of  him  is  better 
or  worse  than  another.  He  helpeth,  as  far  as 
his  little  means  extend,  all  around.  He  is  the  least 
envious  of  banquets.     He  is  all  neighbor's  fare. 

I  am  one  of  those,  who  freely  and  ungrudgingly 
impart  a  share  of  the  good  things  of  this  life  which 
fall  to  their  lot  (few  as  mine  are  in  this  kind)  to  a 
friend.  I  protest  I  take  as  great  an  interest  in 
my  friend's  pleasures,  his  relishes,  and  proper 
satisfactions,  as  in  mine  own.  "Presents,"  I 
often  say,  "endear  Absents."  Hares,  pheasants, 
partridges,  snipes,  barn-door  chickens  (those 
"tame  villatic  fowl,")  capons,  plovers,  brawn, 
barrels  of  oysters,  I  dispense  as  freely  as  I  re- 
ceive them.  I  love  to  taste  them,  as  it  were, 
upon  the  tongue  of  my  friend.  But  a  stop  must 
be  put  somewhere.  One  would  not,  like  Lear, 
"give  everything."  I  make  my  stand  upon  pig. 
Methinks  it  is  an  ingratitude  to  the  Giver  of 
all  good  flavors,  to  extra-domiciliate,  or  send  out 
of  the  house,  slightingly,  (under  pretext  of  friend- 
ship, or  I  know  not  what,)  a  blessing  so  particu- 
larly adapted,  predestined,  I  may  say,  to  my 
individual  palate — it  argues  an  insensibility. 

I  remember  a  touch  of  conscience  of  this  kind 
at  school.  My  good  old  aunt,  who  never  parted 
from  me  at  the  end  of  a  holidav  without  stuffing; 
a  sweetmeat,  or  some  nice  thing,  into  my  pocket. 


Upon  Roast  Pig  475 

had  dismissed  me  one  evenino-  with  a  smokincr 
pkim  cake  fresh  from  the  oven.  In  my  way  to 
school  (it  was  over  London  bridge)  a  grayheaded 
old  beggar  saluted  me  (I  have  no  doubt,  at  this 
time  of  day,  that  he  was  a  counterfeit).  I  had 
no  pence  to  console  him  with,  and  in  the  vanity 
of  self-denial,  and  the  very  coxcombry  of  cliarity, 
schoolboy-like,  I  made  him  a  present  of — the 
whole  cake!  I  walked  on  a  little,  buoyed  up,  as 
one  is  on  such  occasions,  with  a  sweet  soothing 
of  self-satisfaction;  but  before  I  had  got  to  the 
end  of  the  bridge,  my  better  feelings  returned, 
and  I  burst  into  tears,  thinking  how  ungrateful 
I  had  been  to  my  good  aunt,  to  go  and  give  her 
good  gift  away  to  a  stranger  that  I  had  never 
seen  before,  and  who  might  be  a  bad  man  for 
aught  I  kncvr ;  and  then  I  thought  of  the  pleasure 
my  aunt  would  be  taking  in  thinking  that  I— I 
myself,  and  not  another — Avould  eat  her  nice 
cake, — and  what  should  I  say  to  her  the  n(>xt 
time  I  saw  her, — how  naughty  I  was  to  part  with 
her  pretty  present! — and  the  odor  of  that  spicy 
cake  came  back  upon  my  recollection,  and  llu^ 
pleasure  and  the  curiosity  I  had  taken  in  seeing 
her  make  it,  and  her  joy  when  she  sent  it  to  tlie 
oven,  and  how  disappointed  she  would  feci  that  I 
had  never  had  a  bit  of  it  in  my  moutli  at  last, — 
and  I  blamed  my  impertinent  s|)irit  of  alms- 
giving, and  out-of-placc  hypocrisy  of  goodness; 
and  above  all  I  Avished  never  to  see  the  face 
airain  of  that  insidious,  irood-for-iiothiiiL!,",  old 
gray  impostor. 

Our  ancestors    were   nice   in    tlicii"   niclliod   of 


476  Upon  Uoast  Pig 

sacrificing  these  tender  victims.  We  read  of 
pigs  Avliipped  to  death  with  something  of  a 
shock,  as  we  hear  of  any  other  obsolete  custom. 
The  age  of  disciphne  is  gone  by,  or  it  would  be 
curious  to  inquire  (in  a  philosophical  light 
merely)  what  effect  this  process  might  have 
towards  intenerating  and  dulcifying  a  substance, 
naturally  so  mild  and  dulcet  as  the  flesh  of  young 
J3igs.  It  looks  like  refining  a  violet.  Yet  we 
should  be  cautious,  while  we  condemn  the  in- 
humanity, how  we  censure  the  wisdom  of  the 
practice.     It  might  impart  a  gusto. 

I  remember  an  hypothesis,  argued  upon  by 
the  young  students,  when  I  was  at  St.  Omer's, 
and  maintained  with  much  learning  and  pleas- 
antry on  both  sides.  ''Whether,  supposing  that 
the  flavor  of  a  pig  who  obtained  his  death  by 
whipping  (per  flagellationem  extremam,'')  super- 
added a  pleasure  upon  the  palate  of  a  man  more 
intense  than  any  possible  suffering  w^e  can  con- 
ceive in  the  animal,  is  man  justified  in  using  that 
method  of  putting  the  animal  to  death  ? "  I 
forget  the  decision. 

His  sauce  should  be  considered.  Decidedly, 
a  few  bread-crumbs  done  up  with  his  liver  and 
brains,  and  a  dash  of  mild  sage.  But  banish, 
dear  Mrs.  Cook,  I  beseech  you,  the  whole  onion 
tribe.  Barbecue  your  whole  hogs  to  your  palate, 
steep  them  in  shallots,  stuff  them  out  with 
plantations  of  the  rank  and  guilty  garlic;  you 
cannot  poison  them,  or  make  them  stronger  than 
they  are, — but  consider,  he  is  a  weakling — a  flower. 

7.  Per  flagellationem  extremam  means  hy  a  terrible  heating. 


THE  PRAISE  OF  CHIMNEY  SWEEPERS 

CHARLES  LAMB 

LIKE  to  meet  a  sweep — under- 
stand me — not  a  grown  sweeper, — 
old  chimney  sweepers  are  by  no 
means  attractive, —  but  one  of 
those  tender  novices,  blooming 
through  their  first  nigritude,  the 
maternal  washing's  not  yet  efl'aced  from  the 
cheek, — such  as  come  forth  with  the  dawn,  or 
somewhat  earlier,  with  their  little  professional 
notes  sounding  like  the  ^^eep  2?eep  of  a  young 
sparrow;  or  liker  to  the  matin  lark  should 
I  pronounce  them,  in  their  aerial  ascents  not 
seldom  anticipating  the  sunrise  ? 

I  have  a  kindlv  vearnino;  toward  these  dim 
specks  —  poor  blots  —  innocent  blacknesses  — 
I  reverence  these  young  Africans  of  our  own 
groW'th — these  almost  clergy  imps,  who  sport 
their  cloth^  without  assumption;  and  from  their 
little  pulpits  (the  tops  of  chimneys),  in  the  nipping 
air  of  a  December  morning,  })reach  a  lesson  of 
patience  to  mankind. 

When  a  child,  what  a  mysterious  pleasure  il 
was  to  witness  their  ojK'ration!  to  see  a  chit  no 
bigger  than  one's  self,  enter,  one  knew  not  by 
what    process,    into    what    seemed     the    fuurcs 


1.  Distinctive  dress  of  llie  eler^y. 
the  chimneys. 


'I'lie  "swef'ps"  itre  lioy.s  who  clean 


477 


47S  Tin:  Phaisio  of  Chimney  Sweepers 

Averni,^  to  pursue  him  in  imagination,  as  he 
went  soundino-  on  through  so  many  dark  stifling 
caverns,  horrid  shades!  to  shudder  with  the  idea 
that  "now,  surely,  he  must  be  lost  forever!" — to 
revive  at  hearing  his  feeble  shout  of  discovered 
daylight — and  then  (O  fulness  of  delight!)  run- 
ning out  of  doors,  to  come  just  in  time  to  see  the 
sable  phenomenon  emerge  in  safety,  the  bran- 
dished weapon  of  his  art  victorious  like  some  flag 
waved  over  a  conquered  citadel!  I  seem  to  re- 
member having  been  told  that  a  bad  sweep  was 
once  left  in  a  stack  with  his  brush,  to  indicate 
which  way  the  wind  blew.  It  was  an  awful 
spectacle,  certainly;  not  much  unlike  the  old 
stage  direction  in  Macbeth,  where  the  "Appari- 
tion of  a  child  crowned,  with  a  tree  in  his  hand, 
rises." 

Reader,  if  thou  meetest  one  of  these  small 
gentry  in  thy  early  rambles,  it  is  good  to  give  him 
a  penny.  It  is  better  to  give  him  twopence.  If 
it  be  starving  weather,  and  to  the  proper  troubles 
of  his  hard  occupation,  a  pair  of  kibed  heels  (no 
unusual  accompaniment)  be  superadded,  the 
demand  on  thy  humanity  will  surely  rise  to  a 
tester.^ 

There  is  a  composition,  the  groundwork  of 
which  I  have  understood  to  be  the  sweet  wood 
yclept  sassafras.  This  wood,  boiled  down  to  a 
kind  of  tea,  and  tempered  with  an  infusion  of 

2.  Fauces  Averni  means  throat  of  the  lower  world.  Avernus  was  a 
lake  in  Italy  whose  waters  it  was  believed  poisoned  the  birds  that  flew 
over  them  and  through  which  Ulysses  made  his  entry  into  the  lower 
world . 

3.  A  tester  is  about  a  sixpence — twelve  cents. 


The  Praise  of  Chimxky  Sweepers  479 

milk  and  sugar,  hath  to  some  tastes  a  dehcacy 
beyond  the  China  hixury.^  I  know  not  how  thy 
palate  may  relish  it;  for  myself,  with  every 
deference  to  the  judicious  Mr.  Read,  who  hath 
time  out  of  mind  kept  open  a  shop  (the  only  one 
he  avers  in  London)  for  the  vending  of  this 
* 'wholesome  and  pleasant  beverage,"  on  the 
south  side  of  Fleet  Street,  as  thou  approachest 
Bridge  Street — the  only  Salopiaiv'  house — I  have 
never  yet  ventured  to  dip  my  own  particular  l^p 
in  a  basin  of  his  commended  ingredients — a  cau- 
tious premonition  to  the  olfactories  constantly 
whispering  to  me,  that  my  stomach  must  in- 
fallibly, with  all  due  courtesy,  decline  it.  Yet 
I  have  seen  palates,  otherwise  not  uninstructed 
in  dietetical  elegancies,  suf)  it  up  with  avidity. 

I  know  not  by  what  particular  conformation 
of  the  organ  it  happens,  but  I  have  always  found 
that  this  composition  is  surprisingly  gratifying 
to  the  palate  of  a  young  cliimncy  sweeper, — 
whether  the  oily  particles  (sassafras  is  slightly 
oleaginous)  do  attenuate  and  soften  the  fuligi- 
nous concretions,  which  are  sometimes  found  (in 
dissections)  to  adhere  to  the  roof  of  the  mouth  in 
these  unfledged  practitioners;  or  whether  Na- 
ture, sensible  that  she  had  mingled  too  nnich 
of  bitter  wood  in  the  lot  of  these  raw  vicliiiis, 
caused  to  grow  out  of  the  earth  her  sassafras  for 
a  sweet  lenitive; — but  so  it  is,  lluit  no  possiljlc 
taste  or  odor  to  the  senses  of  a  young  chimney 

4.  The  "(Miina  luxury"  is  ten. 

.5.  Suloop  was  a  drink  prciMircd  frDiii  .s;i.s.safrii.s  Iciik  ;iii<l  hIIht  iu- 
gredients. 


480  The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers 

sweeper  can  convey  a  delicate  excitement  com- 
parable to  this  mixture.  Being  penniless,  they 
will  yet  hang  their  black  heads  over  the  ascending 
steam,  to  gratify  one  sense  if  possible,  seemingly 
no  less  pleased  than  those  domestic  animals — 
cats — when  they  purr  over  a  new-found  sprig 
of  valerian.  There  is  something  more  in  these 
sympathies  than  philosophy  can  inculcate. 

Now  albeit  jNIr.  Read  boasteth,  not  without 
r^son,  that  his  is  the  only  Salopian  house;  yet 
be  it  known  to  thee,  reader, — if  thou  art  one  who 
keepeth  what  are  called  good  hours,  thou  art 
haply  ignorant  of  the  fact, — he  hath  a  race  of 
industrious  imitators,  who  from  stalls,  and  under 
open  sky,  dispense  the  same  savory  mess  to 
humbler  customers,  ai  that  dead  time  of  the 
dawn  when  (as  extremes  meet)  the  rake,  reeling 
home  from  his  midnight  cups,  and  the  hard- 
handed  artisan  leaving  his  bed  to  resume  the 
premature  labors  of  the  day,  jostle,  not  unfre- 
quently  to  the  manifest  disconcerting  of  the 
former,  for  the  honors  of  the  pavement.  It  is 
the  time  when,  in  summer,  between  the  expired 
and  the  not  vet  relumined  kitchen  fires,  the 
kennels  of  our  fair  metropolis  give  forth  the  least 
satisfactory  odors.  The  rake,  who  wisheth  to 
dissipate  his  o'er-night  vapors  in  more  grateful 
coffee,  curses  the  ungenial  fume  as  he  passeth; 
but  the  artisan  stops  to  taste,  and  blesses  the 
fragrant  breakfast. 

This  is  saloop — the  precocious  herb-woman's 
darling, — the  delight  of  the  early  gardener,  who 
transports   his   smoking   cabbages   by   break   of 


The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers  481 

day  from  Hammersmith  to  Covent  Garden's 
famed  piazzas, — the  dehght,  and  oh !  I  fear,  too 
often  the  envy  of  the  iinpennied  sweep.  Him 
shouldst  thou  haply  encounter,  with  his  dim 
visage  pendent  over  the  grateful  steam,  regale 
him  with  a  sumptuous  basin  (it  will  cost  thee  but 
three  half-pennies)  and  a  slice  of  delicate  bread 
and  butter  (an  added  half-penny) — so  may  thy 
culinary  fires,  eased  of  the  o'ercharged  secretions 
from  thy  worse-placed  hospitalities,  curl  up  a 
lighter  volume  to  the  welkin, — so  may  the  de- 
scending soot  never  taint  thy  costly  well-ingredi- 
enced  soups, — nor  the  odious  cry,  quick-reaching 
from  street  to  street,  of  the  fired  chimneij,  invite 
the  rattling  engines  from  ten  adjacent  parishes, 
to  disturb  for  a  casual  scintillation  thy  peace  and 
pocket ! 

I  am  by  nature  extremely  susceptible  of  street 
affronts;  the  jeers  and  taunts  of  the  populace; 
the  lowbred  triumph  they  display  over  the  casual 
trip,  or  splashed  stocking,  of  a  gentleman.  Yet 
can  I  endure  the  jocularity  of  a  young  sweep 
with  something  more  than  forgiveness.  In  the 
last  winter  but  one,  pacing  along  Cheapside  with 
my  accustomed  precipitation  when  I  walk 
westward,  a  treacherous  slide  brought  me  upon 
my  back  in  an  instant.  I  scrambled  up  with 
pain  and  shame  enough, — yet  outwardly  trying 
to  face  it  down,  as  if  nothing  had  happened — 
when  the  roguish  grin  of  one  of  these  young  wits 
encountered  me.  There  he  stood,  j)ointing  mo 
out  with  his  dusky  finger  to  the  mob,  and  to  ;i 
poor  woman  (I  suppose  his  mother)  in  particu- 


48*2  The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers 

lar,  till  the  tears  for  the  exquisiteness  of  the  fun 
(so  he  thought  it)  worked  themselves  out  at  the 
corners  of  his  poor  red  eyes,  red  from  many  a 
previous  weeping,  and  soot-inflamed,  yet  twink- 
ling through  all  with  such  a  joy,  snatched  out  of 

desolation,   that  Hogarth'' but  Hogarth  has 

got  him  already  (how  could  he  miss  him!)  in  the 
March  to  Finchley,  grinning  at  the  pieman, — 
there  he  stood,  as  he  stands  in  the  picture,  irre- 
movable, as  if  the  jest  was  to  last  forever, — with 
such  a  maximum  of  glee,  and  minimum  of  mis- 
chief, in  his  mirth, — for  the  grin  of  a  genuine 
sweep  hath  absolutely  no  malice  in  it, — that  I 
could  have  been  content,  if  the  honor  of  the 
gentleman  might  endure  it,  to  have  remained  his 
butt  and  his  mockerv  till  midnight. 

I  am  by  theory  obdurate  to  the  seductiveness 
of  what  are  called  a  fine  set  of  teeth.  Every 
pair  of  rosy  lips  (the  ladies  must  pardon  me)  is  a 
casket  presumably  holding  such  jewels;  but, 
methinks,  they  should  take  leave  to  "air"  them 
as  frugally  as  possible.  The  fine  ladies,  or  fine 
gentlemen,  who  show  me  their  teeth,  show  me 
bones.  Yet  must  I  confess,  that  from  the  mouth 
of  a  true  sweep  a  display  (even  to  ostentation) 
of  those  white  and  shining  ossifications,  strikes 
me  as  an  agreeable  anomaly  in  manners,  and  an 
allowable  piece  of  foppery.     It  is,  as  when — 

A  sable  cloud 
Turns  forth  her  silvery  lining  on  the  night. 


6.  A  celebrated  painter  (1697-1764),  noted  for  the  vividness  of  his 
satirical  pictures. 


The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers   483 

It  is  like  some  remnant  of  gentry  not  quite  ex- 
tinct; a  badge  of  better  days;  a  hint  of  nobility, — 
and,  doubtless,  under  the  obscuring  darkness 
and  double  night  of  their  forlorn  disguisement, 
oftentimes  lurketh  good  blood,  and  gentle  con- 
ditions, derived  from  lost  ancestry,  and  a  lapsed 
pedigree.  The  premature  apprenticements  of 
these  tender  victims  give  but  too  much  en- 
couragement, I  fear,  to  clandestine  and  almost 
infantile  abductions;  the  seeds  of  civility  and 
true  courtesy,  so  often  discernible  in  these  young- 
grafts,  (nat  otherwise  to  be  accounted  for), 
plainly  hint  at  some  forced  adoptions;  many 
noble  Rachels,  mourning  for  their  children,  even 
in  our  days,  countenance  the  fact;  the  tales  of 
fairy-spiriting  may  shadow  a  lamentable  verity, 
and  the  recovery  of  the  young  ^Montagu  be  but  a 
solitary  instance  of  good  fortune  out  of  many 
irreparable  and  hopeless  defiUations. 

In  one  of  the  state  beds  at  Arundel  castle,  a 
few  years  since — under  a  ducal  canopy — (that 
seat  of  the  Howards  is  an  object  of  curiosity  to 
visitors,  chiefly  for  its  beds,  in  which  the  late 
duke  was  especially  a  connoisseur) — encircled 
with  curtains  of  dclicatest  crimson,  with  starry 
coronets  inwoven — folded  between  a  pair  of 
sheets  whiter  and  softer  than  the  lap  where  Venus 
lulled  Ascanius — was  discovered  by  chance,  after 
all  methods  of  search  had  failed,  at  noonday, 
fast  asleep,  a  lost  chimney  sweeper.  I'he  little 
creature,  having  somehow  confounded  liis  pas- 
sage among  the  intricacies  of  those  lonllv 
chimneys,     by    some     unknown     ajx-rture     hiid 


484  Thk  Praihk  of  Chimney  Sweepers 

alit;hte(l  upon  this  magnificent  chamber;  and, 
tired  with  his  tedious  explorations,  was  unable 
to  resist  the  delicious  invitement  to  repose,  which 
he  there  saw  exhibited;  so  creeping  between  the 
sheets  very  quietly,  laid  his  black  head  upon 
the  pillow,  and  slept  like  a  young  Howard. 

Such  is  the  account  given  to  the  visitors  at 
the  Castle.  But  I  can  not  help  seeming  to 
perceive  a  confirmation  of  what  I  have  just 
hinted  at  in  this  story.  A  high  instinct  was  at 
work  in  the  case,  or  I  am  mistaken.  Is  it  prob- 
able that  a  poor  child  of  that  description,  with 
whatever  weariness  he  might  be  visited,  would 
have  ventured,  under  such  a  penalty  as  he  would 
be  taught  to  expect,  to  uncover  the  sheets  of  a 
duke's  bed,  and  deliberately  to  lay  himself  down 
between  them,  when  the  rug,  or  the  carpet, 
presented  an  obvious  couch,  still  far  above  his 
pretensions, — is  this  probable,  I  would  ask,  if  the 
great  power  of  nature,  which  I  contend  for,  had 
not  been  manifested  within  him,  prompting  to 
the  adventure  ?  Doubtless  this  young  nobleman 
(for  such  my  mind  misgives  me  he  must  be)  was 
allured  by  some  memory,  not  amounting  to  full 
consciousness,  of  his  condition  in  infancy,  when 
he  was  used  to  be  lapped  by  his  mother,  or  his 
nurse,  in  just  such  sheets  as  he  there  found,  into 
which  he  was  now  but  creeping  back  as  into  his 
proper  incunabula >''  and  resting  place.  By  no 
other  theory  than  by  this  sentiment  of  a  pre- 
existent  state  (as  I  may  call  it),  can  I  explain  a 
deed  so  venturous,  and  indeed,  upon  any  other 

7.  Incunabula  means  cradle. 


The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers  485 

system  so  indecorous,    in  this  tender,    but  un- 
seasonable, sleeper. 

My  pleasant  friend  Jem  White  was  so  im- 
pressed with  a  belief  of  •  metamorphoses  like 
this  frequently  taking  place,  that  in  some  sort 
to  reverse  the  wrongs  of  fortune  in  these  poor 
changelings,  he  instituted  an  annual  feast  of 
chimney  sweepers,  at  which  it  was  his  pleasure 
to  officiate  as  host  and  waiter.  It  was  a  solemn 
supper  held  in  Smithfield,  upon  the  yearly  return 
of  the  fair  of  Saint  Bartholomew.^  Cards  were 
issued  a  week  before  to  the  master-sweeps  in  and 
about  the  metropolis,  confining  the  invitation  to 
their  younger  fry.  Now  and  then  an  elderly 
stripling  would  get  in  among  us,  and  be  good- 
naturedly  winked  at;  but  our  main  body  were 
infantry.  One  unfortunate  wight,  indeed,  who, 
relying  upon  his  dusky  suit,  had  intruded  him- 
self into  our  party,  but  by  tokens  was  provi- 
dentially discovered  in  time  to  be  no  chimney 
sweeper  (all  is  not  soot  which  looks  so)  was 
quoited  out  of  the  presence  with  universal 
indignation,  as  not  having  on  the  wedding  gar- 
ment; but  in  general  the  greatest  harmony  pro- 
vailed.  The  place  chosen  was  a  convenient  spot 
among  the  pens,  at  the  north  side  of  the  fair,  not 
so  far  distant  as  to  be  impervious  to  the  agreeable 
hubbub  of  that  vanity;  but  remote  enough  not 
to  be  obvious  to  the  interruption  of  every  gaping 
spectator  in  it.  The  guests  assembled  about 
seven.  In  those  little  temporary  parlors  three 
tables  were  spread  with  napery,  not  so  fine  as 

8.  A  festival  of  the  Roman  church  held  in  August. 
Vol.  IX.— 32. 


486  The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers 

substantial,  and  at  every  board  a  comely  hostess 
presided  with  lier  })an  of  hissing  sausages.  The 
nostrils  of  the  young  rogues  dilated  at  the  savor. 
James  White,  as  head  waiter,  had  charge  of  the 
first  table;  and  myself,  with  our  trusty  compan- 
ion Bigod,  ordinarily  ministered  to  the  other  two. 
There  was  clambering  and  jostling,  you  may 
be  sure,  who  should  get  at  the  first  table, — rfor 
Rochester  in  his  maddest  days  could  not  have 
done  the  humors  of  the  scene  with  more  spirit 
than  my  friend.  x\fter  some  general  expression 
of  thanks  for  the  honor  the  company  had  done 
him,  his  inaugural  ceremony  was  to  clasp  the 
greasy  waist  of  old  dame  Ursula  (the  fattest  of 
the  three),  that  stood  frying  and  fretting,  half- 
blessing,  half-cursing  "the  gentleman,"  and 
imprint  upon  her  chaste  lips  a  tender  salute, 
whereat  the  universal  host  W'Ould  set  up  a  shout 
that  tore  the  concave,  while  hundreds  of  grinning 
teeth  startled  the  night  with  their  brio;htness.  O 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  the  sable  younkers  lick 
in  the  unctuous  meat,  with  his  more  unctuous 
sayings, — how^  he  would  fit  the  titbits  to  the 
puny  mouths,  reserving  the  lengthier  links  for 
the  seniors, — how  he  would  intercept  a  morsel 
even  in  the  jaws  of  some  young  desperado,  de- 
claring it  '  'must  to  the  pan  again  to  be  browned, 
for  it  was  not  fit  for  a  gentleman's  eating," — ^how 
he  W' ould  recommend  this  slice  of  w^hite  bread,  or 
that  piece  of  kissing-crust,^  to  a  tender  juvenile, 
advising  them  all  to  have  a  care  of  cracking  their 

9.  The  "kissbg  crust"  is  that  portion  of  the  upper  crust  of  a  loaf  of 
bread  that  has  touched  another  in  baking. 


The  Praise  of  Chimney  Sweepers  -187 

teeth,  which  were  their  best  patrimony, — how 
genteelly  he  would  deal  about  the  small  ale,  as 
if  it  were  wdne,  naming  the  brewer,  and  protest- 
ing, if  it  were  not  good,  he  should  lose  their 
custom;  with  a  special  recommendation  to  wipe 
the  lip  before  drinking.  Then  we  had  our 
toasts— "  the  King ! "— "  the  Cloth  "—which, 
whether  they  understood  or  not,-  was  equally 
diverting  and  flattering; — and  for  a  crowning 
sentiment  which  never  failed,  "May  the  Brush 
supersede  the  Laurel!"  All  these  and  fifty 
other  fancies,  which  were  rather  felt  than  com- 
prehended by  his  guests,  would  he  utter,  standing 
upon  tables,  and  prefacing  every  sentiment  with 
a  "Gentlemen,  give  me  leave  to  propose  so  and 
so,"  which  was  a  prodigious  comfort  to  those 
young  orphans;  every  now  and  then  stuffing  into 
his  mouth  (for  it  did  not  do  to  be  squeamish  on 
these  occasions)  indiscriminate  pieces  of  those 
reeking  sausages,  which  pleased  them  mightily, 
and  was  the  savoriest  part,  you  may  believe,  of 
the  entertainment. 

Golden  lads  and  lassies  must. 

As  chimney-sweepers,  come  to  dust. — 

James  White  is  extinct,  and  with  him  these 
suppers  have  long  ceased.  He  carried  away 
with  him  half  the  fun  of  the  world  when  he  died — 
of  my  world  at  least.  His  old  clients  look  for 
him  among  the  pens;  Mud,  nu'ssiiig  him,  r(*|)r():i(li 
the  altered  feast  of  Saint  Hartliolomew,  jiikI  IIk* 
glory  of  Smithfield  departed  forever. 


PRONUNCIATION  OF  PROPER  NAMES 

Note, — The  pronunciation  of  diflScult  words 
is  indicated  by  respelling  them  phonetically. 
N  is  used  to  indicate  the  French  nasal  sound; 
K  sound  of  ch  in  German;  u  the  sound  of  the 
German  ii  and  French  u;  b  the  sound  of  o  in 
foreign  languages. 

Aboukir,  ah  boo  keef 

Achilles,  a  kiV  leez 

Acis,  ay'  sis 

Ajax  Telamox,  ay'  jacks  teV  a  mon 

Alamo,  al'  a  mo 

Alameda,  ah  la  may'  da 

Alava,  ah'  la  va 

Algiers,  al  jeerz' 

Algonquin,  al  gon'  kwin 

Allouez,  a  loo  ay' 

Alonzo,  a  Ion'  zo 

Alpuxarras,  ahl"  poo  hahr'  ras 

Aphrodite,  af  ro  di'  tee 

Ardennes,  ahr  den' 

Argonauta,  ahr  go  naw'  ta 

Ariel,  ay'  ry  el 

Asaph-ul-dowlah,  ah'  saf  ool  dow'  lah 

Ayacanora,  i  a  kahn  o'  ra 

Balaklava,  bah  lah  klah'  va 

Boabdil,  bo  ahb  deel' 

Begums,  bee'  gumz 

Cadiz,  kay'  diz 

Canova,  kah  no'  va 

488 


Pronunciation  of  Proper  Names    489 

Casabianca,  kas"  a  bee  an'  ka 

Chamouni,  shah  moo  nee' 

Charlevoix,  shahr"  lev  wah' 

Charybdis,  ka  rib'  dis 

Cicero,  sis'  e  ro 

CoMMUNiPAW,  kom  mun'  y  paw 

Confucius,  konfu'  she  us 

Coriolanus,  kor  y  o  lay'  nus 

Coromantees,  ko  ro  mahn'  teez 

CuNDiNAMARCA,  kooTi"  dee  nam  ahr'  kah 

Damfreville,  dahNfreh  veeV 

Demosthenes,  dee  mos'  the  neez 

Dent  Blanc,  dahN  bloN' 

Diogenes,  di  oj'  ee  neez 

Discobolus,  dis  kob'  o  lus 

Elia,  ee'  ly  a 

EuRYALUs,  u  ri'  a  lus 

Ferrol,  fer  role' 

Finisterre,  Jin"  is  tayr' 

Fliedner,  fleet'  ner 

Frontenac,  fron'  te  nak 

Galatea,  cjal  a  tee'  a 

Gonzales,  gon  zah'  leez 

GoNZALO,  (J071  zah'  lo 

Granada,  gran  alt'  da 

Greve,  gray'  ve 

Herve  Riel,  Jier  vay"  ree  eV 

Hypatia,  hy  pay'  she  a 

Hyperides,  hy  per'  y  deez 

Jardin,  zhar  daN' 

Joliet,  zho  lee  yay' 

Jungfrau,  yoong'  frow 

Koran,  ko'  ran,  or  ko  rahn' 


490    Pronunciation  of  Proper  NaxMEs 

La  Chine,  lah  sheen' 

Las    Casas,    Bartolome    de,    lahs   kas'    sas, 

bar  toV  o  may  day 
Lauterbrunnen,  low"  ter  hroon'  en 
Leigh,  Amyas,  lee,  a  mi'  as 
Lethe,  lee'  thee 
LocHiEL,  lo  keeV 
Louvre,  loo'  vr 
Malouins,  mah  loo  aN' 
Mere  de  Glace,  mayr  day  glahs' 
MiAMis,  mi  ah'  miz 

Michillimackinac,  mee"  shil  y  mack'  in  ak 
Milan,  mil'  an,  or  mil  an' 
Mont  Blanc,  moN  hloN 
NoMBRE  DE  Dios,  nom'  bray  day  de  os' 
NuNCOMAR,  7ioon'  ko  mar 
Nyack,  ni'  ak 
OuDE,  owd 

Pedrillo,  pay  dreel'  yo 
Pere  Marquette,  payr  mar  kef 
Phoenicians,  fee  nish'  anz 
PiCARDY,  pik'  ar  dy 
PiZARRO,  pee  zahr'  ro 
Plantagenets,  plati  taj'  e  netz 
Plutarch,  plu'  tark 
Prospero,  pj'os'  pe  ro 
Rajah  of  Benares,  rah'  jah  of  ben  ah'  reez 
RocHEFORT,  rosh  for' 
Salopian,  sal  o'  py  an 
San  Antonio  de  Bexar,  day  bay  Jiahr' 
San  Jacinto,  ^so7i  ja  sin'  to 
Santa  Fe,  san"  tafay' 
Sault  Sainte  Marie,  soo  saint  may'  ry 


Pronunciation  of  Proper  Names      491 

Scutari,  sku  tah'  rij 

SCYLLA,  siV  la 

Seguin,  se  geen' 

Stuyvesant,  sW  ves  ahni 

SujAH  DowLAH,  soo'  jail  dow'  lah 

Temeraire,  tern  e  rayr' 

Teneriffe,  ten"  ur  if 

Thermopylae,  thur  mop'  y  lee 

TouRViLLE,  toor  veeV 

Trafalgar,  traj  al  gahr\  or  trafaV  gar 

Tyrolese,  tir  ol  ees' 

Verres,  ver'  reez 

Vigo,  vee'  go 

Villeneuve,  veel  neuv' 

Wilhelmus  Kieft,  vil  heV  mus  keeft' 

Xenil,  hay'  neel 


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